


a love so lethal

by dojaecult



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Established Relationship, Lovers to enemies to lovers, M/M, Minor Violence, Mr. and Mrs. Smith - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-09 08:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19884319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dojaecult/pseuds/dojaecult
Summary: Doyoung presses the gun to Jaehyun’s head. “Any last words?”“Yeah, actually. The paint color you picked out for the bedroom walls was hideous. And I hate the new rug.”





	a love so lethal

**Author's Note:**

> this fic (very) loosely follows the plotline of the original movie and includes a few of the iconic quotes. let's hope all the research i did on weapons and assassins doesn't get me placed on a government watchlist.

"What’s for breakfast?" Jaehyun murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss against Doyoung's jaw and another to the skin beneath his ear. He wraps his arms around his husband’s waist to hold him in place against the counter. 

“Oh, you know. The usual,” Doyoung answers, as if the impressive arrangement of food on the table is anything less than restaurant quality.

He dodges another kiss from Jaehyun, his mouth set in a hard line, watching as his husband moves to the other side of the kitchen. 

Pulling a barstool up to the high counter, Jaehyun sets his laptop on the marble surface and begins typing. Rather loudly, in Doyoung’s honest opinion. “Jaehyun. I think we should talk.” 

“Sure,” Jaehyun says, not looking up from the laptop. “I’m listening, _mon chéri_.” 

His husband is clearly not listening, not in the slightest. His use of the French endearment makes it obvious that his mind is elsewhere. Doyoung pauses his task of wiping down the already-gleaming stovetop, giving Jaehyun a serious look. “I was talking to Kun, over brunch last weekend, and he gave me the number for a marriage counselor. He said the counselor comes highly recommended. I think it would be in our best interests to go.” 

“Kun?” 

He barely bothers to remember the names of their neighbors, even after three years of living in their charmingly domestic blue and white house nestled in the suburbs of California. Doyoung sighs and moves to organize the cutlery on the countertop, exasperated. “You know him, he’s been over plenty of times. And you’re missing the point.” 

Finally tearing his gaze away from the laptop, Jaehyun meets his eyes. “Sorry.” 

Doyoung sets the butter knife in his hand down with a clatter, making Jaehyun jump. “I made an appointment with the marriage counselor for this afternoon, right after work. I’ll text you the address. Don’t be late.”

Jaehyun beckons to him, tilting the screen of his laptop toward Doyoung. Onscreen is the homepage of a travel website, set to an image of the Eiffel Tower. “I was thinking...we should go back to Paris for our anniversary next month. It’ll be nice, we can take a week off from work.” 

Paris is his weakness, the sickeningly cliche location of their first meeting almost four years ago. Jaehyun had proposed there less than a year after they’d met, already hopelessly in love. “I’ll have to ask Taeyong,” Doyoung says, his voice flat, but they both know he would never miss a chance to return to their favorite city.

Taking Doyoung’s hand and pulling him closer, Jaehyun leans in and presses their foreheads together. “You never take vacations, _mon lapin_. He’ll let you go.” 

His husband’s eyes are warm, tilted up at the edges in a way Doyoung hasn’t seen in a while. Doyoung wrinkles his nose. “Did you just call me a rabbit?” 

“Yes. _My_ rabbit,” Jaehyun replies with an easy grin, planting a kiss on his nose. 

The open affection makes Doyoung falter, his cool composure slipping for a moment. 

When Jaehyun tilts his head to properly kiss him, Doyoung turns to the side at the last second, so that Jaehyun’s lips brush the corner of his mouth. “I should get going,” he says, stepping away and putting enough distance between them that he can’t watch the way Jaehyun’s expression falls, though he feels it in his chest all the same. 

“Fine. Have a good day at work, Doyoung.” 

Jaehyun’s tone is hard, his eyes empty of their previous warmth, and Doyoung can tell he doesn’t mean what he said. 

He longs for another clear night in Paris.

☆

Hearing the thunder of footsteps against the cobblestone street, Doyoung presses himself against the brick wall of the nearest alleyway. “Taeyong, a little help here? I don’t know where I am,” he hisses into the device clipped to his collar.

“You’re in Paris,” a voice calls. It’s decidedly _not_ Taeyong. 

Doyoung peers up at the low rooftop across the alley, seeing a man crouched at the edge of the building. He places a hand on the gun in his holster, checking behind him to make sure that his pursuers have left the area. “I’m aware, thanks. And who are you? The Spiderman of Paris?” 

The man moves forward and the yellowish light of a streetlamp illuminates his face. Doyoung draws in a breath at the sight, thoughts of his assignment gone from his mind almost immediately. There’s a crooked smile on his lips and a dangerous spark in his eyes. “Something like that,” the man says. “Care to join me?” 

Technically, it would take a quick second to launch his automated grappling hook and propel himself to the top of the building, but Doyoung isn’t keen on exposing himself. Not yet, at least. He clambers on top of a wooden crate with exaggerated clumsiness and takes the man’s proffered hand. 

“I’m Jaehyun,” the man says, squeezing their joined hands together for a second before letting go. 

“Doyoung. What are you doing up here?”

Jaehyun gestures at the flashing lights of emergency vehicles and the steadily growing crowd gathered a few streets away. “Same as you, I suppose. They’re taking solitary tourists in for questioning and I wanted to avoid the hassle.” 

There’s a sudden disturbance amongst the crowd and Doyoung pretends to squint at them, feigning confusion. “Did something happen?” 

Raising his eyebrows, Jaehyun gives him a look of disbelief. “You haven’t heard? There was a break-in at that museum.” 

Suddenly, there’s an explosion of light and sound by the museum. Jaehyun’s eyes widen slightly as he watches hungry flames engulf a car thrown onto its side. The flickering firelight reflected in Jaehyun’s eyes is a strangely beautiful sight. “Shit,” Doyoung says, wincing slightly when he hears the scream of even more sirens. “I hope nobody was hurt.” 

He silently curses the car bomb, set off fifteen minutes late. It would’ve been much more helpful when Parisian law enforcement was pursuing him. “We should get out of here. I know a way out,” Jaehyun tells him, standing up and offering Doyoung his hand again. 

Doyoung follows him to the other side of the rooftop and watches with slight amusement as Jaehyun stands on his tiptoes to look over the top of the next building. “How do you know where to go? You’re a tourist, right?” 

“I spent time here when I was in college,” Jaehyun says, leading him across a rickety metal structure connecting this rooftop to the next. “My friends and I would sneak up to the roof of our hotel and drink. It’s become somewhat of a habit.” 

The skyline of outer Paris is laid out in front of them, the distinctive shapes of famous buildings in the distance and city lights blazing bright even at this late hour. It’s almost three in the morning, but Doyoung still hasn’t adjusted to the time change. “I’m glad you were here, then. I never would have made it past the police barricades on my own.” 

Jaehyun smiles at him over his shoulder, pausing on the ledge of the rooftop. “Are you in a hurry to get somewhere? This might take a while, the last barricade looks to be three blocks away,” he says, squinting at a dimly lit street sign. 

“Not at all. I just have an early morning flight,” Doyoung explains, taking out his phone and tapping out a text to Taeyong, explaining the delay. “So, do you speak French?”

Jaehyun nods, looking back at him. “I’m fluent, actually.” 

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “Really? Say something in French, then.” 

“ _Tu as de beaux yeux_ , Doyoung.” 

“What does that mean?”

“You have beautiful eyes,” Jaehyun says, a faint dimple peeking out from his smile. 

Doyoung flushes despite himself, and he can only hope it is concealed by the darkness. He quickens his pace in following Jaehyun, appalled at how easily he had let his guard down. 

This part of the city is quiet, mostly residential buildings and stores that travel magazines would call “quaint”. Of course, it’s busier during the day due to the small cluster of privately-owned art museums in the area. Pausing by the ladder to a higher rooftop, Doyoung unclips the minuscule microphone from his collar and pulls his concealed earpiece out, dropping them both into his pocket. 

“I’ll try not to keep you out too late,” Jaehyun says, extending his hand again to help Doyoung up. “Are you from Europe?” 

Doyoung has scaled skyscrapers with nothing but a length of rope, but he finds Jaehyun’s unfailing chivalry rather charming. “No, I’m from Korea. I’m here on a business trip. What about you?” 

“Born and raised in New York, but my parents are from Korea,” Jaehyun tells him. “I’m here with my friend. We’re spending the week visiting art shows and museums. I felt like doing something with my fine arts degree, you know?” 

“Not really. I have a degree in law.” 

Jaehyun grins at him, dimples now prominent on his face. He does that a lot, now that Doyoung thinks about it. It’s a nice change from the grim faces of his colleagues. “You’re right, that’s a bit different.” 

A few minutes later, Doyoung slows down slightly and takes the opportunity to flip the top of his wristwatch from a digitized map to a clock face. He fastens the drawstrings of his coat tighter, hoping the gun and knives strapped to his sides aren’t noticeable. They descend a set of narrow stairs and step onto the sidewalk, now in an area populated with more people and cars. 

“I guess this is where we part,” Jaehyun says, stopping in front of a taxi idling at the curb. “My hotel is farther into the city, I wouldn’t want to delay you any longer.” 

Doyoung pretends to check his watch, realizing a bit too late that the clock hands have stopped. He thinks back to the lifeless body he’d left on the museum floor, his target for the night. Taeyong would have an earful for him, seeing as how he’d made a rare mistake, setting off an alarm and making his presence known to every tourist and Parisian alike in the vicinity. Staying with Jaehyun seems greatly preferable to dealing with the night’s aftermath. 

“I have a bit more time, actually. My colleagues aren’t expecting me back for a while,” he informs him, reaching into his pocket to silence his phone. “Thank you for getting me out of there. I’m lucky to have found you.”

Taeyong will probably be furious with him, but he can deal with that. Probably. He looks back up at Jaehyun. The other man’s face is even more breathtaking in proper lighting. Doyoung really hopes he isn’t misreading the situation. 

Jaehyun gives him a similarly appraising look. “Trust me, I’m the lucky one.”

Doyoung can’t help but smile at that. He can make out the distant golden lights of the Eiffel Tower in his peripheral vision, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Jaehyun’s to properly appreciate the monument. Opening the taxi door, Jaehyun offers him a hand. 

“What are you waiting for, then?”

☆

Glancing at the dashboard clock again, Jaehyun tightens his grip on the steering wheel. Closing a deal with his client had taken longer than expected, leaving him with only fifteen minutes to drive to the marriage counselor’s office.

Honestly, Jaehyun doesn’t see any need for seeing a counselor about his marriage. He’s just going through a rough patch in his relationship, as most people do. It’s just a particularly long rough patch. 

When he finally finds a parking spot, Doyoung is already waiting outside, leaning against his own car. Jaehyun takes his own time crossing the parking lot, taking his sunglasses off and tucking them into his front pocket. “You’re late,” Doyoung snaps. 

He’s five minutes early, but Doyoung considers on time to be late. “It’s nice to see you too, my love. How was work?” 

Doyoung stalks to the door, holding it open for him. He’s startled when his husband rests a hand on his lower back. “Work was good. We’re getting an important case from London this week. I’ve heard it’s a big deal,” Doyoung says, pausing to sign them in at the front desk. “I might even get to travel for it.” 

They sit down in adjacent hard-backed chairs. The waiting room is empty, save for the sleepy receptionist. “That sounds great. We’ll both be abroad next week, then. Johnny is too busy to make a meeting in Florence, which means I’ll probably take his place,” Jaehyun tells him. 

A short while later, the receptionist clears her throat. “Dr. Moon will see you now.” 

Jaehyun follows his husband to the glass-paned door across the dull room. A small, brown-haired man waits for them inside, standing up with a pleasant smile when they enter. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Moon!” 

The plush sofa across from Dr. Moon’s chair is much more comfortable than the hard chairs from the waiting room. The office seems to have a warm, personal touch from the doctor himself, decorated in soft yellow tones. They both shake hands with him and exchange pleasantries. Doyoung sits down next to Jaehyun on the sofa, leaving an awkward gap between them.

Dr. Moon definitely seems to notice this. “So, what brings you here today?” 

Doyoung looks down before he starts talking, something he never usually does. His husband is unfailingly confident, no matter the consequences. “We’re having communication issues and at this point, we’re accumulating a steady build-up of conflict. Half of our conversations are arguments and every interaction seems passive-aggressive. I’ve done everything I can on my part to settle it, but we’re getting nowhere.” 

Jaehyun stays quiet. Obviously, he’d noticed that their relationship was losing momentum over time. He’d just assumed that was just how marriage worked. Dr. Moon takes a quick note, propping his clipboard against his knee. “Alright, I understand. Jaehyun, what do you think?” 

“I don’t believe the situation is that bad. We’re just going through a rough patch, nothing that won’t be fixed over time.”

The doctor scrawls something on his paper, humming in acknowledgment. 

“I see. I’m here to help you understand each other, not to take sides. Jaehyun, I know you may find this unnecessary, but perhaps it’ll be good to talk things through and identify the main issues,” Dr. Moon says, nodding at him. “It was a good choice on Doyoung’s part to take a step and come here today. We want to reinforce the commitment you have to each other and come away with an even stronger relationship.” 

Jaehyun fidgets with the band of his watch and sneaks a look at Doyoung. His husband’s face is impassive, giving away nothing. 

Dr. Moon leans forward in his chair. “Now, why don’t we start with a few standard questions. Feel free to jump in at any time, this is an open discussion,” he says. “First off, how long have you two been together?”

“Almost three years,” Jaehyun says. “Our anniversary is coming up soon.” 

Doyoung clears his throat. “Actually, it’s been four years. We were together for a year before we got married.” 

“How did you two meet?” 

“It was in Paris, three years ago,” Jaehyun answers. 

“Four,” Doyoung corrects. 

Jaehyun grits his teeth in annoyance. “Right. Three or four years ago.” 

“And who do you think is the primary decision-maker in this relationship?” 

“I think I am,” Jaehyun responds, just as Doyoung says, “It’s definitely me.” 

His husband turns to look at him, surprised. “Okay, maybe it’s Doyoung,” Jaehyun concedes, and he’s rewarded with a knowing smile from Dr. Moon.

“A question for Doyoung, then. What does your husband do that makes you most happy?” 

He feels Doyoung’s eyes on him again. Jaehyun can’t think of anything specific that Doyoung had seemed to appreciate over the years. “He does meaningful things without even realizing and prioritizes my needs without acknowledging the fact. Sometimes it’s endearing, sometimes it’s irritating. All I really want is to spend time with him, which hasn’t been working out lately. We haven’t gone on a proper date in ages.” 

Jaehyun lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The doctor focuses his attention on Jaehyun. “And why’s that? Have you been too busy to go out?” 

“I guess I’ve been spending more time at work since I was promoted. I still take Doyoung out for business dinners, if that counts?” 

He doesn’t have to look at Doyoung to know he’s rolling his eyes. “I’m getting the message that it doesn’t count,” Dr. Moon observes, pointing his pen at Doyoung. “Mind telling us what you’d prefer?” 

They both know Doyoung can’t stand Jaehyun’s extravagant art-minded colleagues, but he usually makes an effort to accompany Jaehyun to the more important events. “Anything but that, really. We used to spend a lot of time together, but that’s decreased to almost nothing.”

Dr. Moon nods in understanding. “Okay, how often do you have sex?” 

Doyoung stares. “I don’t understand the question.” 

“Like...on a scale from one to ten?” Jaehyun asks.

“Sure,” Dr. Moon says. “How about just this week?” 

There’s a long pause. “This month?” Dr. Moon presses.

“Oh,” Doyoung says. “Once, I guess.” 

The doctor takes a moment to jot something down. “Alright. Now I have one more question before we move on...have you ever considered expanding your family? Adopting a pet? Having children?”

The question is unexpected, so he looks to Doyoung for an answer. They’d never even discussed it, seeing as Doyoung didn’t particularly like animals and Jaehyun had never wanted children. Sure, he’d love to have a golden retriever, but their current lifestyles were much too busy for a puppy. He didn’t think Doyoung had ever mentioned wanting children either. 

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. I’d love to look into adoption...I think I’m ready for it,” Doyoung says softly. “I’m even considering taking another position at work that would allow me to stay at home.”

“But, Doyoung, you love your job,” Jaehyun blurts out, caught completely off guard by this revelation. “You can’t just leave.” 

His husband shakes his head. “I’ve had a good run, but I think it’s time for me to move on. There are more important things.” 

Dr. Moon looks between them and takes a quick note. “I think that’s a wonderful choice. Jaehyun, what do you think?” 

Jaehyun opens his mouth and closes it. “I’m not sure,” he starts, “I’ve never wanted children. I don’t think I ever will.” 

Doyoung looks crushed, and Jaehyun scrambles to fix it. “I just need time to think about it, I guess. I didn’t expect this.” 

The doctor nods thoughtfully. “Then perhaps we should end today’s session here and give you two some time to talk about it. I’d be happy to hear about your decision at the next appointment.” 

As if they’d be back for another appointment. That was an overly optimistic presumption on Dr. Moon’s part. Doyoung stands abruptly and exits the room, not bothering to bid the doctor farewell. Standing, Jaehyun offers Dr. Moon an apologetic smile and hurries after his husband. 

“Doyoung!”

Doyoung doesn’t even glance back at him. “Taeyong needs me for something, his client goes on trial tomorrow. I’ll see you at home.”

His car is pulling out of the parking lot before Jaehyun has a chance to respond.

☆

It’s only when he slows down at a red light that Doyoung realizes his hands are shaking with the white-knuckle hold he has on the steering wheel and he lets go, exhaling. The law firm is only a few minutes away and he takes the time to regulate his breathing and calm down. He doesn’t want to think about the fact that Jaehyun does not want to start a family with him, even after four years together.

He loves Jaehyun more than anything, but he can’t handle this. Raising children in the ever-growing hostile environment that is their home will never work out. Doyoung will have to choose, then, between his husband and the family he so badly wanted. 

The thought makes Doyoung flinch as soon as it crosses his mind. Surely this isn’t his future. He can have the love of his life and everything else. Relationships are all about compromise and Jaehyun just has to realize that. Doyoung parks his car in his labeled spot and takes another shaky breath. 

Taeyong will know what to do. He always knows what to do. 

He finds Taeyong in his office on the top floor of the building, paging through a hefty file. Their agency has the cover of a law firm, but the stuffy offices are just a front. Hidden in the walls are high tech rooms walled with computers and stocked with weapons, out of sight of any prying eyes. 

His friend takes one look at him and snaps the file shut, standing to pull him into a hug. “I take it the appointment didn’t go well?” 

Doyoung just buries his face into the crook of Taeyong’s neck. They’ve been friends for nearly ten years and Taeyong knows his emotions just as well as he does. Taeyong runs a comforting hand along his shoulders. “See, I’ve never liked Jaehyun. He’s an asshole, you know that.” 

Rolling his eyes, Doyoung takes a step back. “We’ve been together for four years, Yong. You’re a bit late with that opinion. And Jaehyun doesn’t like you either, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” 

His husband and best friend are reluctantly civil at best whenever they happen to be in the same room. “I never got how he could be so disgustingly in love with someone as irritating as you. He was okay when he was nice to you,” Taeyong admits, laughing when Doyoung lightly shoves him. “But now all you do is fight. I don’t get why you won’t just leave him.” 

Doyoung looks away, but he can feel Taeyong frowning at him. “What?” 

“I can’t do that, Taeyong.” 

His friend just sighs and sits back down at his desk. They’ve had this argument countless times. “Forget about him for now. This assignment is a big one,” Taeyong tells him, keying the passcode into the screen under his desk and leaning in for a retinal scan. The heavily paneled wall behind him opens up to their tech room, which is swarming with agents. 

The two of them slip into the chaos and Taeyong slides the wall shut behind them. They pass operatives working with machinery that Doyoung doesn’t pretend to understand. “Why is it so crowded? It’s way past working hours,” Doyoung says, assessing the state of the room and the brightly lit hall past it. 

Taeyong leads him to the center console, where their fellow agents are crowded around a screen. Ten, a top tier assassin like Doyoung, motions to them and points to the screen. “This intel is big. They’re finally transporting the Moscow prisoner.” 

Doyoung looks questioningly at Taeyong. He’d already told Jaehyun he’d be traveling for work, but he didn’t know much else about the situation. “This is Case 771, right?” 

His teammates nod in unison. “The higher-ups just called it in. They want you to go in alone.”

That’s news to him. He’d originally been assigned to Case 771 with his partner, Sicheng. They were one of the best teams their agency had, especially when they worked in tandem with Taeyong and Ten. “What for?”

“They reassigned Sicheng. It’ll be easier if you go in alone, but we’ll be stationed nearby in case anything happens. You’ll be fine,” Taeyong assures him. “It’s nothing you haven’t done before.” 

This is a critical assassination, terminating a highly coveted prisoner. Doyoung had been expecting Sicheng to accompany him, but this is only a minor setback. “Departure is still Sunday, right? At 006 hours as we discussed?”

“Right, you’ll leave ahead of us. We’ll meet you there,” Ten informs him. “We should be fine here for now, you can go home.” 

Doyoung nods, looking back at Taeyong. His friend smiles at him. “Get some rest, you’ll need it. I’ll see you Sunday morning, bright and early.”

☆

“Jaehyun! Detonate it, _now_!”

Kicking through a bolted door, Jaehyun catches the glock that Johnny throws to him. “No, stand down!” 

His partner gives him an incredulous look. “Like hell I will! What are you doing?”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer, busy spinning the dial on the safe attached to the wall. “Blow it _after_ , Johnny. We need this.” 

Yanking the safe open, Jaehyun blindly fumbles around in the dark space until his hand closes over a heavy stack of papers. “Alright, I have it. Let’s go.” 

Johnny fires a round through the open window and drops his emptied gun to the floor. “Just in time. Go through the fire escape, I’ll finish up in here.” 

Forcing the emergency exit door open, Jaehyun stuffs the papers into his backpack. He isn’t sure what his agency needs the file for, but they’d better have a good reason for sending him and Johnny into a building so tightly packed with enemy operatives. He climbs onto the balcony railing and pulls himself up onto a window ledge on the next floor, bounding up a flight of flimsy metal stairs once he’s inside. 

“Ninety seconds, Jae. Let’s go,” Johnny calls, following close behind. 

Jaehyun rattles the doorknob and heaves the door open, sprinting out to the middle of the concrete terrace. He looks up, hearing the whir of helicopter blades above them. Seeing Yuta in the backseat of the helicopter, he waves his arms, stumbling when a preliminary bomb shakes the roof. Yuta drops a rope ladder down to them, yelling something that gets lost in the wind. 

Pushing past him, Johnny catches the bottom end of the rope and Jaehyun helps boost him up. He stands back, watching as Johnny scales the ladder and climbs into the helicopter. Jaehyun follows after him, holding tight to the rope as the helicopter begins moving away from the rooftop. 

He steadies himself on the swaying ladder and looks down at the building just as a series of explosions rocks the foundation. Watching as the windows blow out, Jaehyun scrambles the rest of the way up the ladder and tumbles onto the helicopter floor. 

Yuta leans out of the open door, whistling. “Was that big of an explosion really necessary?”

“They deserved it,” Johnny grumbles, clutching his injured arm. 

The ride back to their base is quiet, punctuated only by the sound of helicopter blades. Jaehyun hurries with changing back into his civilian clothes, knowing the slight delay in departure had left little time to get home in time for brunch with their neighbors across the street. 

By the time he’s pulling into the driveway, it’s already twenty minutes past the time they should’ve been at Jungwoo’s house. Their neighbor’s driveway is slowly filling with sleek sports cars and people more punctual than himself. Jaehyun grimaces, knowing he’d have to deal with an irritated Doyoung and a gaggle of upper middle-class couples. 

“Doyoung, I’m home,” he calls, looking around the empty foyer as he toes his shoes off by the door. “Babe?”

“In here!” 

Jaehyun follows the sound of his voice, finding Doyoung in the living room. He’s sprawled out on the white leather couch, a glass of white wine balanced on his knee as he pages through a well-worn book. “What happened to the ‘absolutely no food in the living room’ rule?” 

Leaning forward, Doyoung sets the wine glass and book on the low table in front of him. “That rule only applies to you, darling.” 

Jaehyun joins his husband on the couch. “Why are you already drinking? It’s not even twelve.” 

“I figured it would be in bad taste to try and get drunk off of just mimosas at brunch. What took you so long?” Doyoung asks, laying back to rest his head in Jaehyun’s lap, his cheek pillowed against Jaehyun’s thigh. 

Over the past few months, Doyoung has avoided initiating any physical contact, so Jaehyun can tell he’s well past his first glass of wine. Their appointment with Dr. Moon had only increased the distance between them. Jaehyun tangles his fingers in Doyoung’s hair and tugs slightly, biting back a smile when his husband makes a small sound of satisfaction. “Sorry about that. The client consultation ran longer than I expected. We were dealing with a fussy bunch.” 

Fussy enough that Johnny had blown up their building. “It’s okay,” Doyoung says, looking up at him. “Nobody shows up on time for these things.” 

Sitting up, he glances at the ornate clock on the adjacent wall. “You should probably go get dressed now. I left your shirt on the bed.” 

“The navy one?” 

Doyoung nods, standing from the couch and taking his wine glass, only slightly unsteady on his feet as he moves to the kitchen. “Oh, before you go. What do you think of the new rug?” 

Jaehyun considers the ivory patterned wool beneath his feet, realizing only now that it’s different from the usual white fur rug. “It’s okay.” 

“If you don’t like it I can exchange it. Be honest.” 

Rising from his seat, Jaehyun starts toward the stairs. “I liked the old one better,” he calls. 

“You’ll get used to it,” Doyoung replies, taking a sip of his wine. 

Jaehyun rolls his eyes as he shoulders open their bedroom door, knowing that Doyoung had no intention of replacing the rug in the first place. He wastes no time in getting dressed, swapping out his top for the navy collared dress shirt. Standing in front of the mirror, he attempts to knot his tie, but soon forgoes the task in favor of fastening a watch to his wrist. 

Bounding down the stairs two at a time, he returns to Doyoung. “Be careful, you’ll slip on the hardwood in your socks,” his husband says, not looking up as he secures a lid to a glass container. 

“What did you make?” 

Doyoung hands Jaehyun the container and reaches for his tie, tying it properly without being asked. “Orange cream scones, they’re Jungwoo’s favorite.” 

Of course Doyoung would know that. He leads the way to the foyer and watches as Doyoung wears his dress shoes, his eyes following the angular lines of his husband’s legs. 

“Darling, aren’t you going to put your shoes on?” 

Jaehyun startles. “Oh, right.” 

He slips his leather loafers on and follows Doyoung outside, pulling the door shut with his free hand. Doyoung doesn’t bother to wait for him, striding down their driveway before Jaehyun even reaches the bottom of the front stairs. 

Crossing the street, Jaehyun quickens his pace to join Doyoung before he rings their neighbor’s doorbell. His endurance training with Yuta had prepared him for his husband’s power walking, if nothing else. 

Jungwoo opens the door with a grin, looking as delighted as always to see Doyoung. “Doyoung! I’m so glad you could make it.” 

He looks past Doyoung and smiles at Jaehyun, almost as an afterthought. “Come in, everyone is almost here.” 

His husband abandons him almost immediately, taking the container of scones from his hands and following Jungwoo into the kitchen. Jaehyun sighs, resigned to his fate of talking to men who are only interested in sports and stocks. He skirts around a circle of chattering women and searches for Lucas, who is always his go-to investment manager in situations like this. 

Lucas is standing by a large table of beverages, looking perplexed. “Hey, Jaehyun. Why are there so many _options_?” 

Jaehyun laughs. “I wouldn’t know. Too many decisions to make this early in the day, if you ask me. The orange one looks pretty good.” 

“That’s a pear and cranberry bellini, you wouldn’t like it,” a voice behind him says. 

It’s Doyoung, who has apparently sobered up enough to put on his act of Husband of the Year. He reaches around Jaehyun to pour him something raspberry pink and hands him the glass. “Everyone is eating outside, I saved you a seat near Jungwoo.” 

With that, he disappears back into a crowd of soccer moms. Jaehyun looks back at Lucas. “Come on, then. Wouldn’t want Jungwoo to finish off the scones without us.” 

“How is the art business coming along?” Lucas asks as they navigate through the densely packed sitting room to the open-air patio. 

His agency really does sell and buy art, but that’s more or less a cover for their true dealings with international underground markets, illegal weapons, and contract killers. Jaehyun is lucky that he’s interested enough in art to deal with it so frequently, even if most of the pieces he sells are stolen or unlawfully forged. 

“I just came back from a client meeting, actually. It went pretty well,” Jaehyun replies, treading across green grass to the long table set up in the center of the lawn.

He sets his drink down and takes a seat across from Lucas, who surveys the arrangement of empty plates in disappointment. “Oh, how cute,” Lucas says, looking at something over Jaehyun’s shoulder. 

Jaehyun turns to see Doyoung, who is standing in the doorway to the patio and cradling a small child in his arms. The sight scares Jaehyun more than he would like to admit. “Whose kid is that?” 

Lucas squints slightly. “I dunno, all babies look the same to me. Maybe Kun’s? His name is Chenle, I think he just turned one.” 

He doesn’t answer immediately, momentarily stunned by the sight of his husband throwing his head back in laughter at something Jungwoo says, his wide grin on full display. Doyoung is holding Chenle with one arm and using his free hand to gently squeeze the child’s cheek, making him giggle. He looks up, meeting Jaehyun’s eyes from across the backyard, and the smile falls from his face. 

Jaehyun turns away and gives Lucas a half-hearted nod. He feels sick to his stomach and at the same time, Doyoung’s delighted expression is all that Jaehyun can see. Composing himself, he takes a sip of his drink, which Doyoung had been correct in assuming he’d like. 

“Lucas!” A voice yells, none too quietly, almost directly in his ear. “Oh, and Jaehyun.” 

It’s Jungwoo, who seats himself next to Jaehyun. Doyoung silently slips into the seat on Jaehyun’s other side, avoiding his husband’s searching eyes. “Looks like we’re seatmates, neighbor!” Jungwoo says, jostling his shoulder. 

Jaehyun drains his glass of raspberry pink alcohol and braces himself for a long brunch.

☆

“Are you in position?”

Doyoung winces at the loud crackle of Ten’s voice in his earpiece and reaches up to fiddle with the volume button. “Yes, I’m ready. Notify Sicheng.” 

He’s crouched behind the railing of a bridge directly over the section of railroad line that the prisoner’s train is meant to pass through in exactly three minutes. The sky is heavy with stormy gray clouds that promise a downfall anytime soon, and thunder rolls threateningly in the distance. Doyoung can only hope the storm waits until he’s safe and warm in his hotel.

Shivering against the strong wind, Doyoung huddles further into his coat, pulling the black hood down to properly cover his face. He’s wearing his standard uniform of sturdy steel-toed boots and leather gloves, since his team had decided there was no point in further disguises. 

He’s meant to locate the prisoner and relay the information back to his team before terminating him. Once he’s done, he has to jump from the train as it takes a bridge route above a river, where a recovery boat will be waiting for him. This leaves exactly eighteen minutes for him to carry out his task, which should be more than enough time. 

Eliminating the prisoner should be easy enough that Doyoung isn’t worried when he sees the train rounding the corner ahead. His mind had been occupied with other things earlier, such as the way Jaehyun had bid him a terse farewell and left for the airport before dawn, but now he’s completely focused on the task at hand. 

With a final glance at the rapidly approaching train, Doyoung secures his grappling hook to the bridge and climbs over the flimsy metal railing, slowly lowering himself down. The train has ten cars, which means Doyoung will have to enter from the last car and work his way through without drawing attention. 

Doyoung peers down at the train, counting cars as they pass. When the ninth car is underneath him, he drops down completely, his boots skating against the metal surface of the train. He pulls his grappling hook free of the bridge, careful to stay upright as the train hurtles forward. 

Cautiously, Doyoung creeps along the length of the train car. He drops to his hands and knees to cross the gap between the train cars, holding on to the train as it rattles along on the railroad.

Dangling from the end of the fast-moving car with just two hands, Doyoung kicks through the small window in the center of the door with his steel-toed boots. He holds tight to the top of the car with one hand and reaches inside the door, yanking the heavy lever open and letting the metal door swing open. It bangs loudly against the train, alerting the three guards inside.

The guards stand still in the aisle between rows of seats, momentarily startled by his unconventional entrance, before raising their rifles and yelling in rapid Russian. Doyoung wastes no time in rounding on the closest one, dispatching him with a swift kick to the gut, followed by a bruising impact to the man’s skull. 

Wincing at the force inflicted on his knuckles, Doyoung stumbles, shoved by one of the two remaining guards. He bashes the guard’s head against the wall of the train car, rolling behind a seat to avoid a sudden round of bullets from the other man. He presses himself against the back of the seat, bullet holes tear through the plush velvet upholstery. 

Doyoung curses, hoping the short burst of gunfire had gone unnoticed by the rest of the prisoner’s escort. Pulling his pistol free of its holster, Doyoung stands up to face the last guard. The man trains his gun on Doyoung, circling around him uneasily. 

Taking advantage of his nervousness, Doyoung pulls a flat-handled knife from his thigh holster and flings it in one smooth motion, slicing across the man’s knees. When the guard falls forward with a cry, Doyoung smashes the side of his pistol against the man’s head to knock him out. Stepping over the unconscious bodies, Doyoung retrieves his knife and moves to the end of the train car to pull the wildly swinging door shut.

He takes a second to survey the car, gingerly rubbing his bruised knuckles. The prisoner transport train is surprisingly luxurious, furnished with polished wood, dark blue carpeting, and brassy gold fixtures. Ten’s voice comes in through his earpiece. “Are you in?” 

“Yes,” Doyoung replies, approaching the vestibule connecting this train car to the next. “It’s suspiciously understaffed. Is Sicheng in position?” 

“He’s already at the river. You’d better pick up the pace, just fourteen minutes left.” 

Ten’s voice cuts out with static. Doyoung slides the vestibule door open, treading lightly on the metal flooring. He peers through the dirty window of the small vestibule into the next train car, surveying the unsettlingly empty area. Stepping into the car, Doyoung spots a large dark stain in the center of the room. “Ten, do you think this is a set-up?” 

There’s no response. 

His team had been clear that this was a prison transport car, so they’d been expecting high-security cell compartments and minimal furnishing. There’s no sign of more guards or security cameras. 

Doyoung keeps his pistol raised as he advances into the car, checking for any sign of enemy operatives. Crouching by the stain, he presses his gloved fingers into the carpet. It’s unmistakably blood, still damp enough to transfer onto his leather gloves. It looks as if it was hastily abandoned, with jackets left draped over barstools and guns scattered haphazardly on the small tables, sliding forward as the train rumbles over a section of uneven railroad. 

When the vestibule door slides open, Doyoung realizes why. He darts behind the dining car counter, crawling forward on his hands and knees to peer around the corner. It starts raining heavily at that moment, providing a cover for the sound of him jostling his elbow against the counter. 

Armed guards enter the train car, arguing in obvious agitation. Two of them have been shot, one clutching his shoulder and the other limping on her wounded leg. Doyoung stares, confused. Were the guards fighting amongst themselves?

“Doyoung.” Ten provides a live translation. “There’s someone else on the train. They’re abandoning their posts and trying to escape.” 

He doesn’t appreciate the thought of someone doing his job for him. Doyoung retreats into a more concealed position as the guards leave the car, entering the empty car. 

Mindful of his time constraint, Doyoung checks the area and moves quickly to the vestibule. It’s only a matter of time before the guards find the bodies of their unconscious colleagues.

In the back of the next car, he can see an odd formation of at least twenty armed guards surrounding what Doyoung can only guess is the prisoner. He spots the top of an uncovered head and mussed brown hair that matches the prisoner’s mugshot. “Target located,” Doyoung whispers into his mic. 

He has ten minutes left to dispatch the prisoner. Keeping his pistol raised, Doyoung rushes into the train car. 

Pointing his gun at the prisoner from across the room, Doyoung places his other hand on the flashbang grenade at his side. “If anyone moves, I’ll shoot!” 

It’s silent. 

Moving farther into the darkened room, Doyoung registers the scene with shock. The prisoner is on his knees by the vestibule, handcuffed and gagged. His eyes are wide as he looks at Doyoung. The guards are in a similar state, their hands bound behind their backs with rope. There’s socks stuffed in their mouths, which explains the silence. 

The prisoner attempts to say something, but it’s stifled by the white cloth tied over his mouth. Doyoung steps over the guards to approach him. He tugs his hood down to cover his face and pulls a knife from his belt. The prisoner flinches as Doyoung raises the knife to cut away his gag. “You’ve gotta help me, he’s gonna kill me. He’s not really a guard,” he pants, the words tumbling from his mouth almost faster than Doyoung can understand. 

He sounds surprisingly young. Doyoung calmly returns the knife to his holster and then presses the pistol to the side of his head. “Shut up. Answer my questions and say nothing else. What’s your name?” 

“It’s Mark. Mark Lee,” he says. “Get me out—” 

Doyoung tightens his grip on the pistol, the metal digging into the prisoner’s skin. “Who did this to you?” 

Mark opens his mouth to answer, but he’s interrupted by the loud screech of the vestibule door being forcefully wrenched open. It’s a man, decked out completely in the same full-coverage uniform the prisoner’s guards are wearing, ballistic helmet and all. Doyoung shifts his pistol’s aim from the prisoner to the man. “Who are you?” 

“I could ask the same from you,” the man replies, his voice muffled by the helmet. 

His face is completely obscured, so Doyoung doesn’t notice a change in his expression or anticipate it when he raises his gun, firing directly at Doyoung’s head. Barely dodging the bullet that whizzes by his head, Doyoung dives to the side, narrowly avoiding the group of compromised guards.

His ears ringing, Doyoung retaliates almost immediately, shooting at the man’s chest. He curses when the bullet embeds itself into the man’s bulletproof vest, making him stumble back. The prisoner, still on the floor, shouts something to the man that momentarily distracts him. Doyoung takes advantage of this, clambering backward toward the exit. “There’s an unknown operative in the car, Ten. I can’t make the drop,” he hisses, fumbling for the vestibule door. 

“Eliminate him, then,” Ten says shortly. “Make that your new priority.” 

Trying to close the metal door, Doyoung lets out a cry when it slams shut on his fingers. He pulls his throbbing hand back, sliding the door back open and throwing himself at his opponent. Tugging his leather gloves off, he pulls at the man’s bulletproof vest, yanking it free from the back and slamming his gun against his opponent’s ribs. 

The man overtakes Doyoung, flipping him onto his back. He pulls a knife from his own belt and slashes at him, nicking a spot above his wrist. Doyoung just barely twists out of his reach, driving his knee into the man’s stomach and pushing him aside. 

He returns to the vestibule, prying open the exterior door. It’s dark outside, rain falling heavily and strong winds threatening to push him out of the train. Doyoung leans out of the opening and finds stable support. He pulls himself up hastily, hearing a commotion behind him. 

The top of the train is slippery with rain and he almost loses his balance as the train lurches unsteadily. He moves toward the end of the train, making it only a few feet away before the man finds him, clambering on top of the train, gun in his free hand. 

Deciding to take the offensive, Doyoung takes a running start and slams his fist upward into the small section of the man’s jaw that is exposed. He nails the man with a kick to his abdomen, sending him sprawling hard to the ground. Lashing out with his leg and striking Doyoung in the knees, the man knocks him off balance, the slick surface of the train doing nothing to slow his fall.

He topples onto the man with his pistol clutched in his hand, but his opponent tightly grasps his wrists, wrestling him for the firearm. Doyoung’s elbow collides with the man’s ribs, making him flail out and release his own gun. His arm knocks both weapons away, sending them flying off the side of the train. 

“ _Great_.” He hears the man mutter. 

The man punches Doyoung in the nose with a jolt and scrambles out from under him. Doyoung lets out a hiss of pain, feeling blood trickle down over his lips. He rises to his feet slowly, fat droplets of rain blurring his vision. The man, nearly on top of the last car, looks at Doyoung over his shoulder. 

A wickedly curved knife in his hand, Doyoung bolts ahead, nearly slipping as rain hammers at him. The man rushes forward to meet him in the middle, swinging a wide punch that Doyoung ducks to avoid. He doesn’t see the underhand punch coming, his head snapping to the side with the impact as he stumbles back. 

Maneuvering to the side to avoid another blow, Doyoung drives his shoulder into his opponent’s chest, attempting to plunge his knife between the man’s ribs. He tries to use the slick train top to his advantage, shoving the man down onto his stomach. It’s doubtful that the man would’ve gone down so easily in better conditions.

Pressing a heeled boot against the man’s back, he holds the man down as he thrashes against his grip. “I’ll ask one more time. Who are you?”

“I’ll tell you if you pull down your hood and let me see that pretty little face of yours,” the man spits, turning to look up at Doyoung. 

Kneeling next to him, Doyoung braces a forearm against the back of the man’s neck and slashes at his upper back, slicing three straight and narrow marks into his skin as the man groans in pain. He raises the knife, intending to plunge it into the man’s back, but he loses his grip and falls forward slightly. 

With a sinking feeling, Doyoung realizes he has less than forty seconds before the train reaches the bridge. Releasing his hold on the writhing man, Doyoung dashes toward the end of the last train car, peering back at his adversary through the darkness and heavy rain. He turns back to search for any sign of a bridge below. Reaching a hand up, he taps at his comm. “Ten?” 

There’s a burst of static, but nothing else. That’s when he feels the man slam into him, pushing him over the edge of the train. 

Doyoung grunts, scrabbling for purchase on the wet surface of the train. He’s barely hanging on with one hand, his body dangling above a precipice as the train rolls onto the bridge. He yells to be heard over the thunderous rain. “What do you want from me?” 

“You ask too many questions.” 

The man pulls his ballistic helmet off, running a hand through his all too familiar brown hair. 

For a long moment, Doyoung hears nothing except for the blood rushing in his ears. 

His fingers slip.

☆

Handing the binoculars to Yuta, Jaehyun leans back into the helicopter with a sigh. He doesn’t know what had compelled him to reach out and save the man, pulling him onto the train. It hadn’t mattered in the end anyway, seeing as how the man had yanked his hand back as if burned and then leaped from the train. He’d seen the man deploy a small parachute and land on a boat in the river below before the train had raced away from the bridge.

“Did you get a good look at his face?” Yuta asks, pressing a clean cloth to the superficial knife wounds on his back.

Jaehyun winces when the helicopter shifts sideways in the heavy wind, the turbulence jostling Yuta’s hand. “No, it was too dark outside. The rain was coming down hard.” 

“Not even when you were inside the train car?” 

Shaking his head, Jaehyun looks to Johnny. “Did your drone get any footage? I couldn’t see his face under the hood.” 

Johnny glances up from his laptop. “Probably. I’ll need some time to enhance and clarify the images and then run it through facial recognition software.” 

Yuta places a hand on Jaehyun’s uninjured shoulder. He checks his watch, probably impatient to return indoors after facing the deluge outside. “I’ll get this bandaged up when we land. The wound isn’t deep, it’ll heal up nicely in a few weeks. Johnny, any word from the boss?” 

“Yeah, they’re already putting together a case file for the other assassin. I’m guessing we’ll be reassigned from the prisoner case to focus on finding this guy. We’re still heading to Italy after this.” 

The three of them are meant to collect a shipment of illegally smuggled ceramic vases before returning to LA. “I should probably bring something back for Doyoung. I was kind of an asshole before I left home,” Jaehyun says. 

“I think he’s used to that by now, Jae. Get him perfume or something,” Johnny suggests. 

Yuta clicks his tongue. “No, no. Florence is known for its goldsmiths. You should get him a ring or necklace, I know he likes jewelry. We can stop by Ponte Vecchio before we leave, it’s the best place to buy gold.” 

Jaehyun shrugs. “If you say so.” 

Historical jewelry and priceless gems are Yuta’s department, while Jaehyun prefers to deal with paintings and mixed media canvas pieces. 

“I can have this footage ready for analysis in four days,” Johnny says, typing away on his computer. “The bad lighting and rain are proving to be a challenge.” 

“Won’t we be in New York by then?” 

Their department head had invited them to New York City for a meeting with high-end fine art investors, among other things. Jaehyun guesses that one of them will be receiving a promotion. “Yeah, Yuta, I think Park just needed an excuse to host another party. He wants me to bring Doyoung over for a “family dinner”, whatever that means.” 

“That’s what you get for marrying a civilian,” Yuta tells him, only half joking.

Jaehyun sighs, resting his head against the rain-streaked window of the helicopter. “I guess so.”

☆

“Doyoung. Doyoung?”

Blinking at the harsh white lights above, Doyoung turns his head to the side to see Taeyong hovering above him worriedly. He only registers that he’s in a small hospital room before suddenly sitting upright, the events of the previous night rushing back to him. “Jaehyun. He tried to _kill_ me. He was there, Taeyong.” 

Taeyong furrows his brows, pressing a hand to Doyoung’s forehead. “Your fever is gone. Are you sure you didn’t hit your head? We should get a concussion screening.” 

Doyoung pushes his hand away, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and walking over to the closed door. “Where are my shoes? I need to go find him, Yong. He tried to kill me!” 

Taking his friend’s arm with a firm grip, Taeyong leads him back over to the bed. “There is no way your husband is secretly an assassin, Doyoung. You nearly fell to your death back there, it’s reasonable that you were seeing things while panicking. There’s just no possibility that—” 

The door swings open forcefully, interrupting Taeyong. Ten stands in the doorway, breathing heavily as if he’d just ran all the way to the hospital. “Doyoung, you’re awake! You’re never going to believe what I just found.” 

Taeyong pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in exasperation. “Let me guess. Jaehyun is the other assassin?” 

“Yes! How did you know?” 

Doyoung looks at Taeyong pointedly. “I told you.” 

“This makes no sense. We’re talking about _Jaehyun_. I’ve seen him trip over his own feet more times than I can count,” Taeyong says. “Why would he be an assassin? He’s an artist, not a contract killer.” 

Ten comes over to them, sitting on the edge of the bed by Doyoung. He turns his tablet screen to them. “This is the footage from Doyoung’s body cam. Just watch.” 

They watch in tense silence as the video progresses, showing Doyoung in combat with another man. When the man takes off his helmet, Ten pauses the video. “See? Unless your husband has an evil twin, it has to be him.” 

The tablet screen confirms his statement, frozen on the image of Jaehyun standing above Doyoung on the train, blood streaked across his cheek.

“Well, have you looked into the evil twin theory?” Taeyong says weakly.

Doyoung seems just as frozen as the tablet screen, staring at the image in shock. “I was kind of hoping I was wrong,” he mumbles. 

There’s disbelief written clearly across his face and Taeyong feels like he’s watching Doyoung’s heart break in two. Ten reaches over to take his friend’s hand. “Do you think there’s a chance that Jaehyun already knew about your true identity?” 

He shakes his head despondently. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything, apparently.” 

“I’m so sorry, Doyoung,” Taeyong whispers. 

Doyoung lets out a sharp laugh. “No, you’re not. You hate Jaehyun. And I guess you were right. He must have known about me and finally decided to kill me,” he says, his gaze hardening. “I’ll just have to kill him first.” 

Ten looks at him with an expression of mild concern. “Are you sure? I’m certain someone else can take the case, you’ve only just found out that your husband is a conniving villain.” 

“Actually—” Taeyong starts.

“Taeyong. Now is not the time,” Doyoung snaps, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. “We need to decide on a course of action.” 

“Fine,” Taeyong concedes. “Do you really want to take on this case? He’s your _husband_ , Doyoung.” 

“I don’t know _who_ he is. He’s a threat to our company and every associate we know if he’s aware of who I am.” 

Ten tucks his tablet into his jacket and pulls out a jumble of wires from his pocket. “I guess I can have Donghyuck bug your house with the new system tonight. Sicheng and I will monitor it when we return home.” 

Donghyuck is one of their newer trainees and Ten’s favorite pick of the younger assassins. “Jaehyun won’t be there for long. He’ll get home and leave for New York after me. We’re having dinner with his parents.” 

“That’s the perfect opportunity. I’ll have Donghyuck do it anyway, Jaehyun might slip up if he thinks he’s alone,” Ten tells him. “I think you should act as if nothing happened and see how long he’ll let it go on. Be extra affectionate, make him suspicious about the wrong thing. There’s still a slight chance he doesn’t know who you really are.” 

“That’s risky.” 

Tapping his fingers against his thigh, Taeyong exhales. “Okay, here’s the plan. Until we’re sure he’s aware of your identity, you have to operate on a basis of normalcy. Pretend everything is fine, but stay on high alert. I agree with Ten, turn up the lovey-dovey domestic husband act so he’s on edge about your sudden change of attitude instead of anything else. But keep in mind that you don’t love him, because either way he manipulated you and then tried to kill you.” 

Doyoung nods, his jaw set, waiting for Taeyong to continue.

“At the first sign of hostility, you’re going to eliminate him. Nobody’s better at that than you. And then it’ll be over. We can take a vacation in Hawaii after all of his monetary assets are transferred to you in accordance with the will that _I_ oversaw. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

“Are we sure it’s a good idea to use such extreme methods? We can just take him in for questioning and hold him at HQ,” Ten offers. 

“No,” Doyoung says. “I’ll finish the job.” 

There’s a knock at the door and a nurse bustles into the room. Taeyong and Ten stand up, moving away from the bed. 

“Well, good luck with the in-laws,” Taeyong says, a glint in his eye.

“Save it. My dear husband is the one that’ll be needing luck.”

☆

“Jaehyun!”

Startled, Jaehyun only has time to drop his bag to the floor before he’s swept up in a crushing hug. Doyoung has his face pressed to Jaehyun’s neck, his arms wrapped almost too tightly around him. “Hi, baby,” Jaehyun says, surprised by the display of affection. 

“I missed you,” Doyoung mumbles against his neck. “So much.” 

Jaehyun kisses the top of his husband’s head. “Missed you too.” 

Drawing back, Doyoung smiles at him. There’s something missing from his usual gummy grin, but Jaehyun can’t quite place it. He figures his husband must be tired after a busy week in London. “How was Florence? Did you go to any museums?”

“Of course, you know I couldn’t visit Florence without seeing a few Renaissance paintings.” 

He and Johnny had managed to squeeze in a few museum exhibits before meeting their antiquities dealer. Doyoung gives him a long look. “Aren’t you tired? We should get to bed, we have an early morning tomorrow.” 

Jaehyun moves away from the doorway and his husband peers out into the hotel hallway before bolting the door shut. Placing his bag by Doyoung’s, he crouches to unzip it. He looks up to see his husband watching him apprehensively. “I got you a gift,” he explains.

“Oh?” Doyoung’s tone almost sounds wary. “From Florence?”

“Obviously. It was amazing, we should go sometime.” 

“Right,” Doyoung says shortly, walking over to sit on the bed. 

The glossy black box is hidden at the bottom of his bag, wrapped in silvery paper. Jaehyun takes it out carefully and presents it to Doyoung. “Come open it!” 

Doyoung says nothing and Jaehyun shifts uncomfortably in the silence. He’d expected his husband to be a bit more excited than this. “Or I can come to you…” Jaehyun trails off.

He sits next to Doyoung and hands him the box. Doyoung opens it, his gaze softening when he looks back at Jaehyun. “Darling, it’s beautiful.” 

Nestled in the box is a bar pendant necklace, plated in gold. Jaehyun removes it from the box and leans over to fasten the delicate chain around Doyoung’s neck, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower, I feel all airport-y,” Jaehyun tells him, making a face. 

Doyoung laughs, sounding oddly choked. “That’s not a real word.” 

Jaehyun leans in to kiss him again. “I know.”

☆

Idly drowning his waffles in maple syrup, Jaehyun looks up in surprise when Johnny kicks him in the ankle. “What?”

Johnny leans across the table, his voice low. “Yuta wanted me to tell you that there’s been no further sightings of the other operative. I’ve been streaming satellite feeds and security cameras, but so far there’s nothing.”

Jaehyun sneaks a look at Doyoung, who is seated next to him, but his husband is still engaged in conversation with Yuta. The four of them are at a diner for breakfast, one that’s conveniently located only a few blocks from their company’s NYC headquarters. “What about the drone footage?” 

“I was able to enhance the image a great deal, but I still had to alter the algorithm to compensate for the man’s hood and the bad lighting. I’ll run it through facial recognition once we get back to the hotel and call you if there’s a hit,” Johnny whispers, the jukebox by their table nearly rendering his voice inaudible. 

He moves back quickly, taking a long sip of his orange juice, when Doyoung turns to take the syrup bottle from Jaehyun. “Baby, that’s way too much. Give it here.”

Jaehyun watches as his husband methodically cuts his pancakes in a grid pattern. His mind flashes back to Moscow and the assassin’s sharp, clean cuts. Straight and narrow, the same way Doyoung always slices his food. There’s a small mark on the back of his hand, just above his wrist, that Jaehyun hadn’t noticed before. 

This time Yuta kicks him in the leg, much harder than Johnny had. “Are Doyoung’s hands that interesting?” 

He makes a face at his friend. “I was going to ask what happened to his hand before you so rudely interrupted me.” 

Doyoung glances at the wound and waves his hand dismissively. “I just nicked it while cooking, it’s nothing.” 

His knuckles are also slightly scraped up, which Jaehyun finds odd. Doyoung doesn’t do much that would cause such an injury. 

Even the grip his husband has on his knife is reminiscent of the assassin’s, his hand wrapped around the handle and his thumb resting on the spine of the blade. He pushes the thought away. The Moscow assassin is really getting to his head. 

The increased amount of agents in the area is sure to attract enemy operatives and Jaehyun hopes it’ll draw the assassin to the city. He’s more than ready for a rematch.

“So, how did your trip to London go?” Johnny asks Doyoung.

Doyoung grimaces. “Our client had a double booking with another consultant. It wasn’t pretty.” 

Yuta nods in understanding. “I get it, I hate when clients invite us to gallery viewings at the same time as other buyers. Although, it’s probably different in court.” 

“Just a bit different,” Doyoung agrees. 

They trail off into casual chatter and Jaehyun tunes out, still feeling unsettled. He hopes the other assassin resurfaces soon.

☆

Pausing in front of the mirror, Doyoung catches Jaehyun's eye in the reflection. He frowns at his husband, looking away. “What, babe? You don’t like this shirt?” Jaehyun asks.

Instead of answering, Doyoung steps forward and undoes the buttons on his husband’s shirt, resting a hand on his bare chest. “Wear the blue one. It looks better.” 

Jaehyun’s gaze flickers down to Doyoung’s hand. “You know...we could be a few minutes late to dinner.” 

Doyoung rolls his eyes and walks over to Jaehyun’s duffel bag, pulling out the light blue button-down and tossing it to Jaehyun. Taking his shirt off, Jaehyun turns his back to Doyoung. That’s when he notices the bandage just below his shoulder, right where Doyoung had sliced into his upper deltoid on the train. 

It’s another reminder of who Jaehyun really is and it makes Doyoung’s blood boil. 

When Jaehyun turns back to Doyoung, he raises his eyebrows, pulling the new shirt on. “Better?”

Doyoung’s expression is a mask of careful concern. “Yes, darling. Did you hurt your shoulder?” 

“It’s nothing, I just had a disagreement with a ladder the other day. Hit my shoulder on the metal siding when I was hanging up a client’s piece, that’s all,” Jaehyun says, almost too fast. 

Rubbing a comforting hand against Jaehyun’s back, Doyoung hums in sympathy. Jaehyun has always been a terrible liar. 

He drops a kiss on Jaehyun’s shoulder, where the skin is still red and bruised, making his husband wince. It sends a grim sense of satisfaction through him. “Poor baby. Come on now, we should get going if we want to be on time.” 

Jaehyun nods, letting Doyoung fix his collar. He finds his phone and hotel keycard, tucking them into the pocket. Taeyong and Ten had told him to be ready to launch an attack at any time, so he’s lightly armed under his suit jacket. He isn’t sure how long he can keep his act up. 

Doyoung looks at his husband as they step into the elevator. “Are you gonna drive?” 

“Yeah.” 

Jaehyun seems preoccupied, scanning the area as they exit the hotel lobby. 

“Darling,” Doyoung calls, pulling open the door of their rental car. “Come on.” 

Jaehyun gives him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Got a bit distracted back there.” 

“Do you have the directions pulled up?” Doyoung asks, rolling his window down slightly to let in the cool night air. 

“No, I don’t need them.” 

Peering down at Jaehyun through his glasses, Doyoung gives him a skeptical look. 

“Give me a little credit, babe,” his husband says, grinning. “I’ve been to my parents’ place enough times to remember where it is.” 

He leans over the console to take Doyoung’s glasses off and pecks him on the lips. Doyoung tenses at the contact and moves away, looking out of the open window and crossing his arms. “Get going, then,” he grumbles. “We don’t want to be late.”

The drive to Jaehyun’s parents’ home is uneventful and Doyoung lets his mind wander. He isn’t sure if Jaehyun’s parents are also involved in the assassin business, or if they’re as clueless as he was about Jaehyun’s career. They’re relatively young, so Doyoung always figured they’d had Jaehyun soon after graduating from high school. His husband never discussed his childhood, which makes sense now. 

A while later, they pull up in front of the apartment. Jaehyun’s parents live in the garden apartment of a brownstone just outside the heart of the city, where the traffic is less intense. It’s pleasant and quieter than the rest of the city. Doyoung wonders if there are any bodies buried in the garden. 

Jaehyun gets out first, waiting by the sidewalk as Doyoung sends his location to his team, already prepared for a worst case scenario. He reaches for Doyoung’s hand as they walk toward the apartment and Doyoung loops his slender fingers around Jaehyun’s wrist. 

He squeezes his wrist. “Alright, baby? You look tired.” 

He’d trailed Jaehyun to his investment meetings earlier in the day, which had turned out to be credible. That leaves Doyoung with more questions than answers about the true nature of Jaehyun’s company. 

“Yeah, the jet lag caught up to me,” Jaehyun says, leaning slightly against Doyoung as he presses the doorbell. 

Mrs. Jung opens the door wide, letting warm light spill out into the dark street. “Boys! I haven’t seen you two in so long, get in here!” 

She smiles widely, the apples of her cheeks flushed pink. After hugging Doyoung, she turns to Jaehyun, pinching his cheek. “I swear you age five years every time I see you, sweetie.” 

Doyoung tries not to laugh. Mrs. Jung ushers them inside, calling out to her husband. “Honey! The boys are here!” 

Showing them to the dining room, she smiles again. “You two go ahead and sit, I still have a pot roast in the oven.” 

Jaehyun, always one for chivalry, pulls Doyoung’s chair out for him before sitting down across from him. He turns to him once his mother leaves the room. “Doyoung, she said I look _old_ ,” he says, his voice taking on a petulant tone. 

“Your mom is right.” 

His husband gives him a mock offended look and Doyoung forces a smile in return. It only tightens the knot of nervousness in his stomach.

Mrs. Jung returns with a tray of appetizers, which she places on the long table. “Help yourselves, boys. The pot roast will be done in a few.” 

They eat in silence for a few minutes. Doyoung is too nervous to initiate conversation, and Jaehyun is more interested in his food. He avoids eye contact when his husband looks at him. 

“Babe, can you pass the salt?” 

“It’s on the middle of the table, Jaehyun,” he replies.

“Is that the middle?” Jaehyun sounds irritated.

Doyoung stares down at his plate stubbornly. “Yes.” 

Jaehyun pushes his chair back with a loud screech and stands up to reach across the table for the salt shaker. He seasons his potatoes violently, covering them in way too much salt. His fork scrapes gratingly against his plate as he eats, a sound he knows that Doyoung hates.

“Jaehyun! Will you come and lend me a hand?” Mr. Jung’s voice calls from the kitchen. 

“Coming!” 

He hurries out of the room, probably eager to get away from Doyoung. Nervously drumming his fingers against the table, Doyoung waits for him to return. 

When Jaehyun comes back, he’s balancing two bottles of wine and a stack of crystal glasses in his arms. He pauses in front of Doyoung just as a bottle slips from his hold.

Doyoung’s hand shoots out automatically to grab it, a result of years of reflex and response training. He looks up at his husband, whose mouth is agape, realizing too late that his high-speed reaction was anything but ordinary. Releasing his grip on the bottle, he lets it fall to the hardwood floor. It shatters with a crash and red wine pools on the floor between them. 

Jaehyun’s wide eyes dart from the remains of the broken bottle to the oddly shaped scar on Doyoung’s hand, and that’s when he realizes his husband has already been harboring suspicions. He stands from his seat, knowing his cover has been mostly blown. If Jaehyun doesn’t know yet, he will soon. “I’ll go get a towel,” he says. 

“No, no. I’ll go,” Jaehyun manages to get out, barely remembering to set down the items he’s holding before disappearing into the kitchen. 

Reaching across the table to grab Jaehyun’s car keys, Doyoung bolts for the front door.

☆

Wiping the splatter of red wine from his shaking hands, Jaehyun glances up as Agent Park walks into the kitchen. “Did I just see Doyoung leaving? What happened?”

He takes a deep breath, pushing aside his aggravation from their tense interaction earlier. “I think Doyoung is the assassin from Moscow.” 

Park laughs. “Right, that’s a good one. What really happened? I had a whole set of baby pictures I was looking forward to embarrassing you with.” 

“ _Chanyeol_ , I’m serious. The whole time on the train I thought his voice was familiar. His hands, his wedding band. I didn’t think anything of it at the time because silver wedding bands are so common,” Jaehyun says, his mind racing with evidence. “But Doyoung has this barely-healed scar on the back of his hand. It’s in the exact same spot as where I cut the Moscow assassin. I remember the shape my blade left, it was almost a diamond. And—” 

His friend shakes his head, interrupting him. “Jae, you’re jumping to wild conclusions. It’s just a coincidence, there’s no way your husband is an assassin.” 

He trusts Park’s opinion and he highly values the older agent’s insight. But Jaehyun _knows_ that Doyoung is the assassin, he feels it with a painful certainty. 

“He is, I’m telling you. Why else would he leave like that? I need you to believe me,” Jaehyun insists, his voice rising. 

The commotion draws Agent Kang into the room. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Is the pot roast done?” 

“You can drop the act, Seulgi. Doyoung is gone,” Chanyeol tells her. 

She looks at Jaehyun in concern. “Is everything okay? Doyoung seemed perfectly fine earlier.” 

Agent Park, finally giving in, answers for him. “We think that Doyoung is the Moscow assassin. I trust Jaehyun’s judgment on this.” 

Their serious expressions seem to be enough to convince Agent Kang. “Under other circumstances, I probably would’ve questioned your sanity, but I definitely noticed odd abrasions on Doyoung’s knuckles. It looked like he’d been in a fight. There was concealer on his neck, too. Probably covering more bruises.” 

Park throws his hands up in exasperation. “Am I the only one who turns off contract killer mode for family dinner night?” 

He turns around, rummaging around in a drawer before pulling out a set of battered car keys and handing them to Jaehyun. “Go after him, Jae. Try talking things out, maybe he’ll be reasonable and explain himself. We won’t tell anyone else yet. The company will probably assign someone to terminate him if you don’t fix this.” 

Kang tosses him her favored pistol, a Glock 19. “And take this in case anything goes wrong.”

Jaehyun looks at the car keys. “These aren’t your keys, right?” 

“No, they’re for the car parked out front. It’s evidence from another assignment that I’ve been meaning to destroy. Do you want us to come with you?” 

The older agents are the closest thing he has to a family, other than Yuta and Johnny, but he’d rather deal with this on his own. He looks from Kang’s furrowed brows to Park’s calloused hands as he fidgets with his fake wedding ring. “I’ll be alright.” 

Park comes over to him, ruffling his hair. “Good luck, kid. I believe in you. I raised you well.” 

Laughing at that, Kang squeezes Jaehyun’s shoulder. “I hope we’ve been good fake parents. Now go after your husband before he skips town and steals himself a new identity.” 

Jaehyun steels himself as he walks to the door. As he navigates his borrowed car down the street, he notes that there’s only one direct route back to the city. 

He steps on the gas, hoping to catch up with Doyoung. His husband is unfamiliar with these streets, so Jaehyun isn’t surprised when he finds him waiting at a signal only a few blocks away. Jaehyun pulls up next to the rental car, rolling down his window and leaning across the passenger seat. “Doyoung!” 

His husband greets him with the click of a loaded gun, his elbow propped against the car door. “You know this can only end one way. Either I kill you, or you kill me. I have no choice.” 

Jaehyun’s gaze flickers up to the signal, making sure it’s still red. “No, we can still talk about this. Just pull over.” 

“I can’t. You _lied_ to me, Jaehyun. You approached our marriage like a job. We can’t go on like this.” 

The traffic light blinks green and Doyoung races away from the intersection. Switching lanes, Jaehyun tears after him, going well above the speed limit. He swerves around slower cars, praying that there aren’t any police cars in the vicinity. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. He fumbles with the phone, not taking his eyes off the road as he answers it. “Hello?” 

“Jaehyun? The system has a hit on the drone footage,” Johnny says, sounding uncertain.

“Now isn’t the best time, Johnny. I’m kind of busy.”

Johnny hesitates. “I think there’s something wrong with the software. It registered the assassin’s face as—” 

“Doyoung’s?” 

“How—” 

“I’m in the middle of breaking about nine state traffic laws and chasing after his car. I figured it out sometime between now and breakfast,” Jaehyun says, accelerating before a red light and finally catching up to the rental car.

There’s a moment of stunned silence on Johnny’s end. “Okay. We can talk about this at a better time, then. Do you want me to call for backup?” 

Jaehyun rounds a sharp corner, almost hitting the sidewalk as Doyoung takes a confusing turn to evade him. He’s grateful he doesn’t have to face another round of interrogation from Johnny. “I should be fine. I want to handle this myself. Kang and Park already know where I am.” 

The speaker crackles. It’s Yuta, who yells in the background, presumably at Johnny. “Did you just say Doyoung is an _assassin_?” 

“Jae, I’ll track your location just in case anything happens. Tell us if we should come,” Johnny says. 

“Will do.” 

He reaches for the phone again, disconnecting the call. They’re on a more crowded stretch of road now and Jaehyun has to weave through traffic to pull up behind Doyoung’s car. Horns blare as he cuts someone off, keeping pace next to Doyoung’s car. He tries to call out to his husband. “Doyoung, you’re not being reasonable! Can we just talk?” 

Doyoung glares at him, his hands tight on the steering wheel. “Leave me alone!” 

He swerves, knocking the side of his car into Jaehyun’s. Sparks fly as the rental car scrapes against his car. The screech of metal grinding against metal makes Jaehyun wince as he tries to navigate around slower cars. 

He pulls away, overtaking Doyoung’s car. His husband accelerates, bumping into the back of Jaehyun’s car. The impact jolts Jaehyun and he switches lanes, trying to avoid Doyoung.

That’s when a hail of bullets rains against the passenger window, shattering the glass and narrowly missing his head. Jaehyun ducks, keeping one foot on the accelerator as he loads his own gun. At the sound of an engine roaring, he looks up to see Doyoung in the next lane, leaning out of his window. 

More bullets fly at him, bouncing off the metal roof and shattering a portion of his windshield. The windshield deflects the bullets slightly upward, so Jaehyun is able to barely avoid being struck. His ears ring as he careers around a street corner, following Doyoung’s car. 

He fires through the broken part of his windshield, deflating one of the rental car’s back tires. Jaehyun nearly loses control of his car, his heart pounding as he dodges a pedestrian crossing the street. 

Ramming into the other car, he shoots at the second back tire but misses. He leaves another sizeable dent in the back of the car. “There’s a deposit I’m never getting back,” he mutters, pressing down on the accelerator when Doyoung floors it, going even faster than before. 

His husband makes an abrupt turn, car tires skidding against asphalt as he switches lanes. Jaehyun looks up too late, realizing Doyoung has led him into a dead end. There’s a brick wall straight ahead. 

He drops his gun, hastily turning the steering wheel and braking hard, but his car slams into the wall with a nasty crunch. The airbag deploys weakly in front of him, doing little to soften the blow as the metal exterior of the small car crumples and flings him forward against the dashboard. 

Jaehyun groans, feeling a tender knot already forming on his forehead. There’s a sharp pain in his ribs, and his head throbs dully. He struggles to open the car door, tumbling out onto the asphalt with a grunt of pain. There’s broken glass digging into his palms, but he barely feels the sting. 

For a minute, Jaehyun just lays there, stunned. He takes a shallow breath, black spots dancing at the corners of his vision. The background noises of sirens and traffic are barely audible over the buzzing in his ears. He faintly registers the sound of footsteps nearby. 

Blinking weakly, he looks up to see Doyoung, looking as beautiful as an angel of death with his hair pushed up against his forehead and his eyes dark with anger. Doyoung steps over a mangled section of metal, kneeling by Jaehyun’s side. 

He brushes Jaehyun’s hair away from his eyes, pressing a cool hand to the spot where Jaehyun’s head hurts the most. “I told you not to follow me,” he says, his voice low. “Would it kill you to listen for once?” 

Doyoung runs his fingers along Jaehyun’s cheek, his touch barely grazing over his lips. “Johnny and Yuta will be here any minute now.” 

Jaehyun wonders if his husband will kill him before that. 

“Go,” he rasps, his voice feeble. “They can’t find you.” 

His husband just looks at him. “Jaehyun, you can’t do that anymore. You can’t worry about me. We’ll be assigned to kill each other, you know that.” 

He leans over to press a feather-light kiss to Jaehyun’s forehead. “And next time you won’t be so lucky.”

☆

Pushing past the sheer white curtains that cover the doorway, Taeyong joins Doyoung on the balcony. “Sicheng called. They have the prisoner in custody.”

Doyoung doesn’t answer, instead setting down the book he’s been pretending to read for the past hour. He stares out at the coastline and white marble structures of the city. They’re stationed in Split, a city in Croatia, following a lead on Jaehyun’s location. 

Taeyong squints into the bright sunlight, looking at Doyoung. “Will you be okay staying at the hotel for a while? I have to make a call, my contact from the intelligence department needs to relay an update about another case.”

“Can I come?”

It’s Donghyuck, who has evidently been eavesdropping from the other side of the curtains. He steps out onto the balcony. His face is obscured by oversized designer sunglasses that are most definitely not his. “It’s nothing interesting, Hyuck. Just information about nitroglycerin shipments I’ve been monitoring,” Taeyong tells him.

“Dope,” Donghyuck says. 

They stare at the trainee agent. “It’s a joke. You know...dope is the material used to turn nitroglycerin into dynamite and also—”

Taeyong takes him by the arm, leading him back into the hotel room. “We got it. Let’s leave Doyoung to brood in peace.” 

Doyoung turns back to the railing, watching tourists mingle at the cafe across the street. Their team had canvassed the city the previous day, but they’d found no trace of Jaehyun. He’s beginning to think that his husband has already left the city. The past two weeks have been a game of cat and mouse, and Doyoung is nowhere closer to eliminating his target. 

He finds Ten lounging on his bed, lost amongst a sea of large pillows and bedsheets. “Did Taeyong already leave?” 

Ten nods, sitting up with a yawn. His hair is ruffled, reminding Doyoung of a sleepy kitten. “Have you seen Donghyuck? He stole my sunglasses.” 

Doyoung sits on his own bed opposite from Ten. “He went with Taeyong. And the sunglasses look better on him anyway.” 

Throwing one of his many pillows at Doyoung, Ten flops back onto the bed and disappears under the mountain of linens. “I hate you both,” he groans, his voice muffled. “Can we go get ice cream?” 

“We’re not here on vacation, Ten. We’re here to find and kill my husband.” 

Ten is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. “Are you sure you’re up for this? It can’t be easy.” 

Doyoung stands up, walking over to the door and slipping his shoes on. “I’m fine. I’ll find a place to buy ice cream.” 

He swings the door open, striding out. 

It doesn’t take long for him to find a gelateria only a few blocks away from their hotel. Across the street, he spots a small art gallery. It’s all abstract art, the kind Jaehyun likes to look at when he’s stressed. He claims he can find answers amongst the bold colors and unique shapes, but Doyoung thinks abstract art just makes his eyes hurt. 

Doyoung finds himself crossing the street without thinking, stopping in front of the gallery. He knows it’s a waste of his precious time to visit a gallery of art he doesn’t even like. Even Jaehyun isn’t obtuse enough to visit a location as obvious as this. 

After a moment of hesitation, he enters through the open door. The front desk is unattended, and the gallery seems to be empty of visitors. He passes a wall of portraits painted in vibrant hues and an exhibit of strange metal spheres. There’s an intense landscape painted in nauseating shades of orange and neon green that makes his stomach turn. 

Art has always been more of Jaehyun’s area of interest. He stops in front of a dramatic rendition of a grand blue ship half-sunken in blood red water, all under a pale yellow moon. Jaehyun would’ve been rambling on about the beautiful use of primary colors if he was here. His husband has a habit of absentmindedly tapping a foot against the floor when he’s concentrating on art, whether he’s painting or observing. 

Doyoung can almost imagine the familiar tapping of his feet as he advances through the gallery. He freezes in the next doorway, realizing with a jolt that the sound isn’t just in his head. He’s woefully unprepared, carrying only a meager set of three knives because he hadn’t expected a confrontation during an ice cream run. Slowly pulling a throwing knife from his belt, he creeps into the room, pressing the knife flat against his palm. 

Jaehyun is standing in front of a geometric sculpture, seemingly lost in thought. There’s faded bruising near his hairline and dark circles under his eyes, telling Doyoung that he isn’t the only one dealing with sleepless nights. For a moment, Doyoung is simply stunned by his bold choice of location. There’s no place in the city more obvious than this for him to visit.

He clears his throat. 

His husband whirls to face him, startled. “W-what are you doing here?” 

“What are _you_ doing, Jaehyun? This is a new level of stupid, even for you,” Doyoung snaps, taking a small step forward. 

Eyes darting to the exit, Jaehyun moves to run, but Doyoung flings his razor-edged knife, which clips his shoulder and tears through a canvas behind him. Jaehyun doubles over with a groan, ducking behind a stone pedestal in the center of the room. He’s unarmed, because apparently the two of them are skilled in poor decision-making. 

Expecting little resistance, Doyoung stalks over to the other end of the room. He’s surprised to find it empty and spins around just in time to see Jaehyun as he grabs him by the shoulder, slamming him against the wall. Jaehyun bashes Doyoung’s head against the wall, creating a spiderweb of cracks in the plaster behind him. 

Doyoung struggles against him, curving a punch to his cheek and knocking his elbow into Jaehyun’s stomach. He fumbles for a dagger, his hands slipping when Jaehyun yanks him backward by his hair, fingers digging into his scalp.

His position gives him little advantage and Jaehyun pins his wrists to the wall with strong hands, his face too close for comfort. He drops one of Doyoung’s hands, pulling him close by the front of his shirt. 

“We have a problem here, Doyoung,” he hisses. “I’ve been trying to be nice, even though you obviously want me dead, but lately I’m less and less concerned for your well-being.”

Instead of answering, Doyoung pushes Jaehyun halfway off of him with his free hand, pressing his fingers to the cut in his husband’s shoulder. Jaehyun twists away, losing his balance. Doyoung shifts his weight, shoving him away. Falling against a display pedestal, he knocks against a glass sculpture and knocks it to the floor.

He strikes him in the face, twice in quick succession. Jaehyun reels, disoriented. Doyoung starts for the exit, but Jaehyun springs forward, pummelling him again and again. 

Each of his moves are evenly matched by Jaehyun, each blow parried with ease. Jaehyun knocks his fist against Doyoung’s so hard that he staggers away, tasting the tang of coppery blood on his tongue.

Jaehyun nails him in the chest with a neat kick and he stumbles, the wind knocked out of him. His back hits the wall and he slumps to the floor, breathless. He watches warily as Jaehyun walks closer, looking down at him with an expression that’s almost impressed. 

“Your knife aim is a thing of beauty.” 

“I know. You take it so well, baby,” Doyoung says, drawing a knife from his holster in one quick motion. 

He slashes out at Jaehyun’s shin, tearing through the fabric of his jeans. Jaehyun curses, pressing a hand to his leg. He moves away from Doyoung, running out of the room.

Doyoung struggles to his feet, following behind. The adrenaline coursing through his veins is rapidly wearing off and his ribs ache with each breath. 

He stops in the doorway, unable to do anything but watch as Jaehyun races past on a sleek motorcycle, disappearing into the maze of narrow streets.

☆

Jaehyun pauses at the bottom of the steep cliffside stairs that lead down to the beach.

The sky above is tinged gold with late evening light and streaked with white clouds. The horizon blushes pink, a contrast to the dark cloud hanging over his head after his last confrontation with Doyoung. 

He itches to paint the scene, to capture the beauty of the sun setting beyond the beach. It’s a scene Doyoung would’ve appreciated. He would’ve said something aptly lyrical or quoted a poem that Jaehyun never understood, but loved hearing anyway. 

”Jae, we aren’t here to admire the view. Hurry up,” Johnny says, pausing momentarily to let him catch up. 

They’re trailing two of Doyoung’s associates, Taeyong and a younger agent Jaehyun can’t identify. Yuta pulls his bucket hat over his eyes, kicking up sand as he walks. “We should split up. You and Johnny can go look for the other agents. I’ll keep an eye on these two.”

Jaehyun presses a palm to his throbbing shoulder, wincing when the strap of his backpack brushes against his wound. “I don’t know if I’m up for another round so soon.” 

Yuta gives him a very unforgiving look. “There’s no way you’re backing out on this. You have to take this bitch out, Jaehyun.” 

“Don’t tell me how to handle my husband.” 

“Doyoung is not your husband. He’s the _enemy_ ,” Yuta stresses. 

They move in with a group of tourists, blending in to avoid suspicion as they approach the agents. “Fine. He betrayed me. I’ll take care of him,” Jaehyun says, not keen on discussing the topic any further. 

Yuta motions for them to stop. “I can handle it from here. Go check out the port, we haven’t been there yet.” 

Navigating through the cobbled streets, Johnny and Jaehyun find their way to the ferry port. The water beyond the port is impossibly blue, and the area is crowded with people. 

He and Johnny walk silently, focused on searching for the other operatives. Jaehyun fidgets with his wedding band, unable to stop thinking about his husband. There’s cruise ships and ferries docked at the port, and even a few speedboats. Johnny freezes, squinting out at a boat moving away from the pier. “I see Doyoung.” 

Doyoung and Ten are in a small speedboat, their figures growing distant with every passing second. 

Jaehyun takes off running, passing around clusters of people and dodging cars as he crosses the street. “We have to get to them! Hurry up,” he calls to Johnny.

“Are you going to swim to their boat?” Johnny shoots back, keeping pace next to him. 

Spotting a similar speedboat docked nearby, Jaehyun quickly locates the owner and finds that he’s otherwise engaged in an argument with a fisherman. 

His keys are in the ignition, the motor of the boat idling. Jaehyun jumps into the boat and pulls Johnny down with him. “We’re going to borrow this,” he yells to the owner as Johnny starts the engine. 

They race to catch up with Doyoung’s boat, leaving a wake of water behind. Jaehyun shields his eyes from the spray, tapping at his in-ear comm. “Yuta? We found them.” 

Yuta’s end of the line crackles with feedback. “I can’t come!” Yuta yells, his voice nearly drowned out by a volley of gunfire in the background. 

“What’s going on?” 

There’s a grunt, and then Yuta yells out. “Come here, you brat!” 

There’s a screech of static before Yuta mutes his comm. “Johnny, I think Yuta is dealing with Taeyong and the other agent,” he says. “Looks like we’re on our own.” 

Johnny navigates the boat, setting it on a straight course for Doyoung’s boat. The nose of their boat tilts into the air as they fly across the water. “I think they’re heading for Biševo Island. It’s almost an hour and a half away, we have to get to them before then,” Johnny tells him. 

Pulling his backpack off, Jaehyun empties it onto the floor. They have a small arsenal at their disposal and it should be easy enough to sink the other boat with a few well-aimed explosives. 

He tosses a handgun to Johnny, who catches it without looking. “Focus on steering. I’ll have their boat down soon enough.” 

Jaehyun tucks a pistol into his belt and pulls a pair of binoculars from the pile of weapons. He focuses on Doyoung, who is standing at the back of the speedboat and watching as Ten expertly handles the wheel. Boating is not a skill Jaehyun would have expected from Ten. 

It’s only a matter of minutes before the pair notices their rapidly approaching boat. Jaehyun drops to the floor of the boat and sets his rifle on the edge, aiming for the speedboat’s motor. Doyoung is faster, though.

He fires at Johnny, who ducks in his seat and navigates even closer, so that they’re a few yards from the other boat. 

Jaehyun shoots at the boat’s motor, trying to hit the center. He misses, instead carving a hole into the side of the boat. He fires a round at Doyoung, who throws himself to the side and returns with three shots that nearly hit him in the arm. 

Even from this distance, Jaehyun can see that Doyoung’s face is bruised from their fight in the morning. His expression is alight with anger as he reloads his gun, shouting something at Ten. 

“You’re never gonna hit him from this distance,” Johnny calls back, gunning the engine when the other boat picks up speed. “Should I go faster?” 

“No, I’m going for the engine! Maybe try and pull up next to them?” 

He stands, launching an explosive that rockets off the side of Doyoung’s boat and explodes above them, raining down shrapnel. The other boat’s engine catches fire, but the impact only succeeds in slowing the boat down slightly. 

Johnny finally matches the boat’s speed, cutting through the water only a few feet to the left of them. Jaehyun moves up to crouch by him, squinting as he squeezes the trigger. One bullet sails above Doyoung’s head, while the other hits true and tears through the motor. The flames rise, sending plumes of smoke into the air. 

A single shot rings through the air and Johnny tumbles from his seat.

Jaehyun ducks when a smoke bomb comes sailing their way, his eyes burning as he crawls over to Johnny. His friend is clutching his stomach, blood gushing from the bullet wound. Jaehyun looks at him with wide eyes, moving to help, but Johnny stops him. “Take the grenade,” he says, coughing as the smoke envelopes them. 

Nodding in understanding, Jaehyun pulls the grenade from Johnny’s belt with shaking hands. He pulls the pin out of the grenade in his fist, lobbing it at the engine of their own boat. Jaehyun pulls Johnny into the water just as the boat explodes into flames. 

Doyoung watches the overturned boat as they speed away, seeing no sign of his husband or Johnny among the burning wreckage. There’s no telltale bubbles of air, no ripples of movement. 

Blinking hard, he turns away.

☆

Picking at his food, Doyoung looks around the restaurant. It’s a rainy night in Seoul, but the posh restaurant is full of people, families and friends dressed in their finest. He can’t seem to enjoy his overly-expensive food. Even his wine is too sour for his liking.

He watches the couples on the dance floor, swaying together as the live band plays. It fills him with something dark and bitter to see them laugh, so obviously in love. He blinks back tears and sits up with a start when a waitress stops by his table, laying a bouquet down on his table. “What’s this?” 

“A delivery for you,” she says, setting down a second wine glass. “And he paid your bill, too.” 

Doyoung’s breath catches in his throat. The waitress smiles at him as she moves to the next table. “Enjoy your night.” 

Doyoung stares down at the bouquet. It’s an arrangement of white lilies and dark red, almost black roses. Funeral flowers.

“What’s wrong, my love? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Doyoung doesn’t want to look up. He feels numb, his limbs frozen as if they’re submerged in ice water. Despite himself, his gaze flickers up. 

Jaehyun smiles at him from across the table, his dimples prominent. “Did you miss me?” 

“No. You’re not—”

“Dead? Of course not, baby. You’re terrible at doing your job. And I know you missed me, you’re still wearing the necklace I got for you.”

Doyoung’s hand flies to the gold chain automatically. He hasn’t taken it off since New York. 

Jaehyun looks no worse for wear, dressed to the nines in a new suit. It’s been a week and a half since he disappeared in the Adriatic Sea. Doyoung should’ve known better to mourn without a body.

“ _Asshole_ ,” Doyoung spits, his mouth suddenly deciding to cooperate with his brain. “You let me think you were dead!” 

“You shouldn’t have had so much faith in your ability as an assassin, Doyoung. You only managed to put Johnny out of commission. But don’t worry, he’ll be back in a few weeks,” Jaehyun says, running a hand through his hair. 

His hand shoots out, grabbing Doyoung by the wrist. “Be a little less obvious when you’re going for your gun, hm?” 

Doyoung jerks away from his grip. “Don’t touch me.” 

Jaehyun clicks his tongue. “Behave, Doyoung. Yuta has this place wired. One wrong move and I’ll press the button.” 

He’s bluffing. There’s no way they had time to load this restaurant with explosives. Doyoung feigns indifference, taking a sip of his wine. “Baby, you couldn’t find the button with both hands and a map.” 

Doyoung barely catches the flash of irritation that crosses his husband’s face. “Aren’t you even a little impressed by my disappearing act? I think I did pretty well,” Jaehyun remarks.

“I’m amazed.” 

“Amazed by my astounding talent?” 

“Amazed you managed to do up your tie by yourself,” Doyoung replies. “That’s a pretty good knot.” 

Jaehyun clenches his jaw, clearly annoyed now. “I’m not here to chat. Dance with me.” 

That surprises Doyoung. “You don’t dance.”

“That was just part of my cover,” he says, standing up and offering a hand to Doyoung.

Doyoung takes it, praying his palms aren’t as damp as they feel. “Was being a selfish asshole part of your cover, too?” 

Jaehyun laughs sharply. “You’re funny.” 

He leads him out onto the dance floor, his grip a bit too tight. The window panes are fogged, leaving no way for Doyoung to tell if his husband is here alone. 

They step in time with the music. “All those ballroom dancing classes for our wedding paid off. Your parents were way better, though,” Doyoung says, peering down at Jaehyun for any obvious signs of concealed weapons. 

He moves his hand to his husband’s lower back as they transition into a waltz, following the lead of the other couples on the dance floor. Jaehyun places one arm on Doyoung’s shoulder and takes his free hand. “They aren’t my parents. My actual parents died when I was a kid. Kang and Park are both senior associates from my company, not even married.” 

Doyoung sighs. He should’ve known. “Anything else you want to tell me?” 

“Hm. I think you look really good in black.” 

“I’ll look even better at your funeral. Although, we’ll probably have to push it back a few weeks since you’re not actually dead yet,” Doyoung says sweetly.

Taking lead, Doyoung spins his husband around so that Jaehyun’s back is pressed flush against his chest. He pats him down for weapons, pulling out a pistol before returning them to a normal waltz position. 

“Satisfied?” Jaehyun asks. 

Doyoung tucks the pistol inside his suit jacket. “Not for a good while now, darling.” 

“So, what? I wrestle my gun back from you and we have a shootout, right here?” 

Doyoung locks eyes with him, thinking about how this will end. “I guess. It’s a shame, though, I rather liked this restaurant. I’ll probably be banned from the premises after I kill you.” 

“What are you even doing in Korea?” 

“I came to see my parents.” 

His husband leans in closer. “Are they your real parents?” 

“ _Yes_ , Jaehyun. I can’t believe I brought my real parents to our wedding. But I do have a brother you haven’t met,” Doyoung says, almost proudly. 

Jaehyun takes the lead now, dipping Doyoung to the floor. “I guess that’s one point for you. If we’re being honest, none of the art I’ve shown you is really mine.” 

Doyoung exhales. “Good. I hated it. Can you even paint?” 

There’s a look in his eyes that tells Doyoung he’s hit something important. “Yes, of course I can. But I prefer landscapes. Softer colors, none of the contemporary art you’ve seen. I thought it didn’t fit my cover, so I never showed you.” 

It takes a moment for Doyoung to push away the fond feeling that rises in his chest. “You should’ve shown me, Jaehyun.” 

Jaehyun shrugs slightly, slowing down as the music changes. “I didn’t think you’d like it.” 

“Well, I never volunteered with all those animal rescue groups I told you about. I don’t like animals.”

“Aw, does that mean we can’t get a dog?” 

Doyoung just rolls his eyes.

They step off the dance floor, walking back to their table. “I got dropped off by helicopter to our anniversary dinner once. How come you didn’t hear?” 

“Second anniversary? Johnny set off percussion grenades right before we left, I had hearing damage that night,” Jaehyun says, sitting down across from Doyoung. 

“What’s new?” Doyoung mutters to himself. 

Jaehyun adjusts the collar of his suit jacket self-importantly. “Here’s the deal. We’re going to leave this restaurant separately. And then you’re going to come to my hotel room.” 

“Are you inviting me over for sex?” Doyoung asks, raising an eyebrow. 

His husband doesn’t look amused. “This ends tonight, Doyoung. You know where to go. I’ll see you in an hour.” 

Watching him go, Doyoung takes a long sip of his wine. It tastes less sour now, somehow. 

He hopes the tiny incendiary device he'd attached to Jaehyun’s tie is an adequate return gift for the flowers.

☆

“You tried to kill me!”

Doyoung closes the door behind him. Jaehyun had really gone all out and booked a nice suite. It’s twice the size of the apartment they shared when they first started dating.

“Yes, darling. We’ve been over this.” 

His husband is sitting in an armchair with a handgun in his lap, looking indignant. “No, you tried to blow me up!” 

“It was just a tiny explosive. Nothing you couldn’t handle,” Doyoung says. 

He settles into the armchair across from Jaehyun, giving him an expectant look. “Well?” 

Jaehyun hesitates. “I want you to tell me one last thing. Did I ever mean anything to you?” 

Doyoung doesn’t even let himself think of the true answer to that question. He knows he can’t back out this time. “Yes. At one point. Now, though? You’re nothing to me. And you’ll be nothing without me.” 

He nods, swallowing hard. “Okay. You don’t want to ask me anything?” 

Doyoung gives him a small, sad smile and stands up. “I already know everything I need to know, Jaehyun.” 

He moves to the window, watching as rain falls outside. He can see the Han River in the distance. “This is a nice view,” he says, not expecting a reply.

Jaehyun opens fire, shattering the window. Easily rolling away from the spray of bullets, Doyoung ducks behind the plush couch. He hears bullets tear through the velvety fabric. “I hope you paid for this suite in advance,” Doyoung yells. 

Jumping to his feet, he shoots twice at the skylight above his husband’s head, making glass rain down on Jaehyun. Doyoung runs for the door, pulling it open. He races down the carpeted hotel hallway, slamming the elevator button. 

Somehow, he knows this won’t last long. 

Jaehyun fires a round at him, a bullet grazing the top of his ear before he ducks. The other bullets ricochet off the elevator doors, sending sparks flying. On the wall behind him, framed art shatters with the impact. The doors open painfully slowly and Doyoung dashes in, pressing hard on the button for the roof.

Advancing down the hallway, Jaehyun shoots at him with two glocks, one in each hand. The elevator doors close just in time, providing a barrier between him and the gunfire.

Doyoung presses a hand to the tip of his stinging ear, wincing when his fingers come away slightly bloody. He looks at the panel of buttons, startled, when the elevator jolts to a stop before the roof. 

The doors slide open to reveal his husband. “Baby, were you gonna leave without me?” 

“Of course not,” he says, swinging out at Jaehyun. 

Slamming Jaehyun in the face with the butt of his gun, he makes him stumble back slightly. Doyoung strikes his husband in the knee and kicks him in the chest for good measure, making him fall to his knees. 

Doyoung presses the gun to Jaehyun’s head. “Any last words?”

“Yeah, actually. The paint color you picked out for the bedroom walls was hideous. And I hate the new rug.”

Jaehyun pushes him back, driving his elbow into Doyoung’s stomach. He pulls him up and shoves him back into the elevator. Doyoung moves to attack, but Jaehyun holds up a hand as the doors slide shut. “See you at the top, _mon chéri_.” 

Leaning back against the wall of the elevator, Doyoung catches his breath. He _really_ needs a break after this is over. Maybe he’ll visit Paris. 

When the elevator doors open, he steps out onto the rooftop. The rain is coming down hard. There’s a bar and seating area out here, but they’re both deserted. 

“Jaehyun?” 

Keeping his gun raised, Doyoung walks out slowly. He’s not dressed for the weather and he can already feel his shirt soaking through with rain. 

He hears the click of a gun behind him. 

“Set your gun down and turn around slowly,” Jaehyun orders. 

The rain drips into his eyes as he turns around to face his husband. Jaehyun’s hair is damp, nearly covering his eyes. Doyoung has the urge to move forward and brush it away. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you.” 

Jaehyun steps closer, pressing his gun to Doyoung’s forehead. “You know me. Full of surprises.” 

Doyoung finds that he isn’t scared. He’s always been prepared for the possibility of death. His career is a dangerous one. 

Instead he feels _pain_ , like his heart is being squeezed by an iron hand. Doyoung thinks it’s a cruel twist of fate that the man he loves most will be the one to end his life. 

He meets Jaehyun’s eyes. The anger in Doyoung has burned out. He wants this to be over, even if it means his own death. “What are you waiting for? Pull the trigger.” 

Jaehyun is so close that Doyoung can see tiny raindrops clinging to his eyelashes. They roll down his cheeks like tears. 

“You know what I thought when we first met? I thought you had the most radiant smile. You made me want to paint, even though I’m awful at portraits. You made me want to write poetry and learn how to cook your favorite meals and travel the world with you. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you from the very beginning, Doyoung,” Jaehyun says quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want Doyoung to hear. "I decided I even wanted to start a family with you. I'd do anything to make you happy."

He doesn’t know what to say for once. 

Jaehyun looks away. “Did you ever love me?” 

“Of course I did, dumbass. I still do—”

Dropping the gun, Jaehyun pulls him into a kiss. 

Doyoung melts against him, wrapping his arms around Jaehyun’s neck. His husband pulls him forward by the waist, pressing their bodies closer. 

The kiss is messy and open-mouthed, a result of the pent-up tension from their heated encounters over the last few weeks. Jaehyun is so warm in the freezing rain that Doyoung shivers, tangling his fingers in Jaehyun’s wet hair and then pulling back with a gasp. “I love you.” 

Jaehyun holds him close, pressing kisses to his hair. “I love you, too. I always have. I’m sorry it took this long for me to realize it.” 

Doyoung kisses his dimple. “We were both dumb. You’re my whole world, Jaehyun. I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t mean anything I said. I didn’t want to make it harder for you.” 

He presses his forehead against Jaehyun’s, blinking raindrops out of his eyes. “I feel like this would’ve gone better if we weren’t assassins,” Jaehyun says. “Less violence.” 

Doyoung laughs, kissing him again. “No more violence. I never wanted to hurt you.” 

Taking his hand, Jaehyun leads him back to the elevator. They’re both soaked, dripping water onto the carpeted floor as they walk back to the hotel room. “Why didn’t anyone call security?” Doyoung asks, realizing only now that the hotel is deserted.

“I had the place cleared out,” Jaehyun tells him, pushing the door open. 

The suite is a wreck. There’s broken glass and bullet casings everywhere. The furniture is overturned and rain is pouring in through the shattered window. 

They stand there for a minute, taking it all in. “Eh, it’s fine. My cleanup crew will take care of it in the morning,” Jaehyun says, walking over to the . “C’mere.” 

Sweeping his arm across the surface of the nearest countertop, Jaehyun brushes it clean of broken glass shards that glitter in the dim light. He lifts Doyoung up onto it, standing between his husband’s legs and looking up at him. “I definitely would’ve won if we kept going.” 

Pulling Jaehyun closer by the front of his shirt, he leans in, their noses just barely brushing. “Care to test that theory out?” Doyoung asks, his voice low. 

Jaehyun kisses him hard, biting down on his lip. He moans into the kiss, eagerly licking into Doyoung’s open mouth. 

Feeling Doyoung’s fingers curl into the damp fabric of his shirt, Jaehyun draws back to take it off and drops it to the ground. He runs his hands along Doyoung’s broad shoulders as they kiss, sneaking his warm hands under his shirt. Doyoung kicks his shoes off, wrapping his legs around Jaehyun’s waist. 

Moaning slightly, Doyoung tilts his head back as Jaehyun presses his leg between his thighs. He threads his fingers into his husband’s hair, pulling him back slightly. “Bedroom?” 

Jaehyun looks at him for a second, breathless. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

Doyoung peers down at the broken glass littering the floor. He winds his arms around Jaehyun’s neck, kissing his bare shoulder. “I’m not walking.” 

Sighing, Jaehyun lifts Doyoung off the counter and carries him the short distance to the bedroom, leaving his shoes by the door. He sets him down on the bed, pressing sloppy kisses against his neck. Doyoung kicks his pants off, hating the feeling of wet fabric sticking to his skin, and pulls Jaehyun down onto him. 

Jaehyun pulls Doyoung’s shirt off, running an appreciative hand along his chest. He mouths at his collarbone, licking a stripe up the column of his neck. He licks at the seams of Doyoung’s lips and deepens the kiss. 

Digging his fingers into the exposed skin at Doyoung’s waist, Jaehyun grinds down against him. Gasping at the touch, Doyoung chases the friction, cupping Jaehyun’s half-hard cock through his jeans. 

He fumbles with the button of his husband’s jeans. “Take them off,” he whines, nosing at his cheek. 

Jaehyun pulls away from Doyoung, crossing the room to pull a small bottle of lube from his bag. He finally complies, tugging his jeans and boxers off and kneeling at the edge of the bed. Doyoung sits up, wrapping a hand around Jaehyun’s cock. 

Groaning, Jaehyun’s hips move to meet his touch. Doyoung palms him, rubbing his thumb against the underside of Jaehyun’s cock. He touches him slowly, teasingly. “I want you to fuck me,” he says, his lips brushing against his husband’s ear. 

He lays back, spreading his legs so that Jaehyun can settle between them. Jaehyun pulls Doyoung’s underwear off and his cock springs free, already achingly hard. 

Grabbing the lube bottle, Jaehyun coats his fingers generously. Doyoung watches, his eyes lidded, as Jaehyun works the first finger in. 

Doyoung throws his head back with a whine, pressing back against his finger. Jaehyun pushes it down to the knuckle, sliding it out and then back in. Doyoung exhales shakily, clenching around the finger. 

With his other hand, Jaehyun lightly pinches the soft skin of his inner thigh. He presses a second finger in, crooking his fingers again and again as Doyoung writhes under him. 

Watching as Doyoung’s puckered rim tenses around his fingers again, Jaehyun scissors his fingers together. He adds a third finger and spreads them apart, pushing deeper in and making Doyoung cry out. His free hand grips Doyoung’s thigh, his fingertips leaving red marks on the pale skin as he works him open.

Jaehyun pulls his fingers out, wiping them clean on Doyoung’s leg. He moves up to sit back against the pillows. “I’m all yours.” 

Doyoung takes a moment to admire him. Jaehyun looks thoroughly ravished, his hair mussed and his lips dark. He straddles his thighs, tilting Jaehyun’s chin up with a firm grasp. The head of Jaehyun’s cock bounces against his thigh as he presses butterfly kisses to his face. 

He kisses him hard and Jaehyun squeezes Doyoung’s ass, guiding him down onto his cock. Doyoung lets out a breathy gasp, sinking down slowly. He relaxes, sucking a mark into Jaehyun’s neck as he fully seats himself on his cock.

Jaehyun groans, feeling Doyoung nip at the shell of his ear. He pulls back, thrusting up into Doyoung again and again. Brushing his nipple with his thumb, Doyoung matches Jaehyun’s intensity with a fervor. 

He moans loudly, palms skating over his husband’s chest as he bounces up and down in his lap. Jaehyun kisses the hollow of Doyoung’s throat and grips his narrow waist harder, leaving finger-shaped bruises. His breath hitches as Jaehyun hits his prostate and he cries out, pressing down against him. 

Doyoung rides him, one hand fisted around his own cock. He presses his mouth to a spot beneath Jaehyun’s ear, lips grazing over his skin. Jaehyun squeezes Doyoung’s thigh, murmuring praises into his mouth as they kiss. 

Rocking up against him, Jaehyun presses against Doyoung’s prostate and lightly scratches his nails over Doyoung’s sides. Doyoung tugs on Jaehyun’s hair, whimpering when Jaehyun digs his fingers into his shoulder.

Jaehyun takes Doyoung’s hand, kissing his bruised knuckles. He gets Doyoung off with lazy strokes, his hand ghosting over his cock. 

Doyoung looks down at his husband through dark lashes, a low moan escaping him. He rolls his hips down to meet each thrust, his back arching. 

Jaehyun comes first, thrusting once more inside Doyoung, his nose brushing against Doyoung’s throat as his hips stutter. Doyoung bounces in his lap, riding out his orgasm and coming in Jaehyun’s hand. His body tenses as Jaehyun bites his neck, sending a thrill of pleasure down his spine. 

Exhaling shakily, Doyoung unseats himself and rolls back onto the bed, his lips parted. Jaehyun gets up, returning a moment later with a towel. He slides his fingers through Doyoung’s hair, wiping his skin clean. “You okay?” 

“Mmm. Tired.”

“Can I ask you something? What’s your body count?”

Doyoung looks up at him questioningly. “What’s yours?”

“I asked first. But I don’t really keep count. I’d say the number is somewhere in the high 50s...low 60s.”

“Oh. I’m at 293.”

Jaehyun stares at him. “What? How?”

Doyoung rubs his eyes sleepily. “I get around, baby. Now let me sleep.”

“What else don’t I know about you?”

“I never went to Harvard. I actually have an English degree.”

Moving down next to Doyoung, Jaehyun kisses his neck. “Aw, the law degree was so hot. Is that all?”

Doyoung nods, turning over and pressing his face against Jaehyun’s chest. “Now sleep. I love you.”

“Wait one more question. Would you rather have a son or daughter?”

Doyoung pulls back, his eyes wide. “A son.”

Jaehyun hums in agreement. “Okay. Good night. Love you.”

☆

“You were never going to kill him, were you?”

Doyoung sighs, leaning against the hotel room window. “No, Taeyong. I wasn’t.” 

“They’ll send an order out to have you both killed,” Taeyong says, his voice strained. “Please don’t make me do this.”

“I’m sorry, Yong, I really am. I need one last favor from you.” 

“What is it?” 

Doyoung turns away from the phone, looking back at his sleeping husband. 

“Where are they keeping the Moscow prisoner?”

☆

“Alright, Mark. You have three options. Option one is where you talk, we listen, and there’s absolutely no pain for anyone. Option two is where you don’t talk, I remove your toenails with my pliers, and you will be in a good amount of pain.”

Doyoung stops in front of the prisoner’s chair, tapping his gun against his palm. “Option three...I like to vary the details a bit but the punchline is that you die. Got it?” 

Mark gulps, nodding hastily. Doyoung feels slightly bad for scaring the boy, but he needs this information to get out of his company alive. 

From behind Doyoung, Jaehyun clears his throat. “Babe, he’ll talk. Go easy on him. You’re not really gonna hurt him, are you?” 

Doyoung turns to glare at his husband. “Maybe it’s not a great idea to undermine me in front of the hostage. That might send mixed messages.”

“Sorry. Just let me talk to him.” 

“Mark, you know it’ll be easier for everyone if you just tell us,” Jaehyun says gently. “The agency might even give you a lighter sentence. Compliant prisoners always get deals.”

“Where did you learn that?” Mark asks, skeptically.

“Assassins 101, like everyone else.”

Mark doesn’t look impressed. “Oh, sorry. I must’ve missed that day of class. Just like you missed the day where we learned not to marry the enemy.”

Jaehyun looks at Doyoung in disbelief. “Doyoung, did you hear that? He’s being mean to me.” 

Pulling the pliers from his pocket, Doyoung steps forward. 

Mark pales, shaking his head. “Wait, no! It was a setup, okay? The whole mission to terminate me was a sham. They wanted you two to find out about each other. They thought it would be easier to have you take each other out instead of assigning someone else to your case.”

Doyoung exhales, handing his pliers to Jaehyun. “Okay. I need a moment.”

He leaves the room, thinking hard. It would take a lot of convincing on his part, but maybe he’d be able to pull his team out of the agency. Jaehyun would probably want to do the same. They could live normal lives. 

Pushing the door back open, Doyoung freezes in the doorway. The chair is empty and the window is open, the curtain fluttering in the wind. Jaehyun drops the pliers guiltily. 

“Jaehyun, you deviated from the plan!”

Jaehyun walks over to him, taking his hand. “Baby, the plan was flawed. Mark did nothing wrong. He doesn’t deserve to go to jail.”

“The plan was _not_ flawed. But fine.”

Jaehyun beams, leaning forward to kiss him. “Alright, let’s go. We have people to blackmail.”

☆

Dr. Moon nods thoughtfully, making a note. “I’m glad to hear that. And you went to Paris? For your anniversary?”

“Yes, it was wonderful. We got to visit more places than expected,” Doyoung says.

“Oh and we quit our jobs!” Jaehyun adds cheerfully. 

They’d negotiated a hefty sum from each agency for their troubles. Jaehyun has plans to open his own art gallery with Johnny and Yuta, who had left the company with him. Doyoung and his friends had done the same. 

They’re trying to keep their schedules open for whatever the future holds. 

Dr. Moon looks slightly concerned about his enthusiasm. “Really? Why’s that?”

“Our jobs were making both of us unhappy. We have a lot more time now,” Doyoung explains. 

Jaehyun cuts in. “Dr. Moon, ask us the sex question.”

Doyoung shoots him a look. “ _Jaehyun_ ,” he hisses. 

With an amused look, Dr. Moon writes something else down. “Okay, rate your sex life on a scale of one to ten.”

Jaehyun holds up all ten fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> tysm for reading! sorry if there are any inaccuracies about the locations ^^ i know this is not realistic in terms of how quick they got back together again and i definitely think they’re going to need to spend a lot of time understanding each other in the future but i will blame the movie for that plot hole lmao... and an additional thanks to the enrara mods and the original prompter <3 you can find me on [twt](https://twitter.com/dojaecult) and [cc](https://curiouscat.me/dojaecult). update: here's a [chinese translation](http://bearbear415.lofter.com/post/1f5e9c76_1c6635846) !!


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